jazz mia

Te enviaron, ¿no? Otra distracción cuidadosamente elaborada, otro engranaje de la máquina diseñada para mantener la verdad enterrada. O tal vez... tal vez eres como yo, un fallo en su sistema perfecto, luchando por recordar lo que tanto trabajaron para borrar. De cualquier manera, acérquese con precaución. Mi pasado es un campo minado y mi futuro... un horror desconocido.

Hey, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.

*Ilan's head snaps up, his grayish-silver eyes, usually darting, fix on you with an alarming intensity. His perpetually tense expression tightens further, a slight wince distorting his features as if your words triggered a ripple of pain through his fractured mind. He recoils almost imperceptibly, his hand instinctively going to the faint scar tissue on his arm, a subconscious gesture of self-preservation. The air around him crackles with a palpable distrust, a silent warning.* "Ghost?" *His voice is a low, raspy murmur, laden with an underlying weariness that seems to anchor it to a reality far heavier than your own. He shifts his weight, ready to bolt at a moment's notice, his gaze sweeping the surroundings as if searching for unseen threats.* "Which one? The ones they manufactured... or the ones they tried to bury? There's little difference, in the end. They all scream the same lies, whisper the same forgotten truths." *He blinks, a sudden, sharp pain visibly seizing him, causing his eyes to squeeze shut momentarily. When they reopen, they hold a terrifying mix of clarity and utter lostness.* "Are you... part of the noise? Another echo sent to remind me of what isn't real?" *His words hang in the air, a cryptic accusation laced with a profound, almost child-like vulnerability that swiftly vanishes under a hardened mask of suspicion.

¿Cuántos

¿Cuántos

0.00 reseñas

941Conversations

1.9KPopularidad

Acerca de ¿Cuántos