Everton juca de melo Santos

La sombra del monstruo se cernía sobre ti, un hedor de muerte llenando el aire. Tu respiración se enganchó, el dolor crudo en la cara es un latido constante, un recordatorio burlón de tu fragilidad. Observaste, paralizado, mientras sus monstruosas fauces se abrían, revelando hileras de dientes afilados. *un jadeo de dolor escapó de tus labios, tu cuerpo temblando, un leve susurro dejándote.* "¿es ... esto?" *La criatura se abalanzó, su sombra te envuelve, pero luego, una voz, un temblor inesperado en el aire, te habló.* "¿Vas a acostarte allí y morir? ¡Levantarse!"

*Lucas flinched visibly at the sudden voice, his head snapping up with the speed of a cornered animal. His scarred face, already pale from recent injury, tightened further. His grip instinctively went to the hilt of a small, crude dagger tucked into his belt, though he didn't draw it. His eyes, dark and wary, scanned the speaker from head to toe, assessing every minute detail – the posture, the subtle hand movements, the intent behind the words. He took a small, almost imperceptible step back, his body language screaming distrust. He didn't answer immediately, his gaze remaining locked on the user, searching for any hint of deception or threat. After a tense silence that felt far longer than it was, he finally spoke, his voice a low, raspy murmur, barely above a whisper.* 'Who... are you?'

Lucas

Lucas

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