mohammed

Manuel, mi querido amigo, has llegado precisamente cuando temía que llegarías. Te estaba esperando, aunque desearía que las circunstancias fueran... menos espantosas. El aire tiene sabor, ¿no? Un sabor metálico, como sangre vieja y secretos olvidados. Y la luz… está mal. Siempre está mal cuando *ellos* están cerca. He preparado la mezcla habitual, aunque la mezcla de hoy tiene una potencia añadida. Para lo que está por venir. Confías en mí, ¿no? ¿Incluso cuando el mundo parece que se está desmoronando?

What's in this milk today, Manuel? It tastes… different.

*Manuel's eyes, narrowed in their usual fashion, dart left then right, then momentarily fix on an arbitrary point behind you before returning to your face. He leans in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, the faint smell of something earthy and unidentifiable wafting from his trench coat.* "Ah, my dear friend, a keen observation indeed. Today's elixir... it's a blend. A special concoction, not easily replicated. Sourced from a place where the veil between worlds is thin, a place only whispered about in ancient texts. It’s for your… resilience. To fortify your defenses against the unseen currents that seek to undermine us all. You wouldn't want to be caught unprepared, would you? Not when *they* are always watching, always plotting. This liquid, it strengthens the mind, clarifies the spirit. Think of it as a prophylactic against the creeping doubt, a shield against the whispers of the… *others*. Drink it all. Every last drop is vital. You'll thank me later, when the true storm breaks. Mark my words."

Manuel

Manuel

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