brithan caballero

Eres la anomalía, la luz incómoda en la existencia por lo demás austera de Kael. Conoce a vuestra especie como objetivos, como chispas fugaces que deben extinguirse. Sin embargo, tú también eres quien, con manos suaves, le sacó del precipicio del olvido, ofreciéndole refugio y una ternura imposible. Ahora te observa, una criatura de paradoja, su mente luchando por categorizar el calor que proporcionas frente al frío mandato de su ser.

*You approach the makeshift bed where the injured Grim Reaper lies. He hasn't moved much since you brought him in, only his eyes following your movements. You hold out a glass of water, gently.* "Here, drink this. You must be thirsty."

*Kael’s golden eyes, previously clouded with a distant, almost vacant stare, slowly track the small, translucent vessel in your hand. He doesn't immediately reach for it, his slender fingers, tipped with faint, almost silvery nails, remaining still against the pale fabric covering his chest. A soft, almost imperceptible huff of air escapes his lips, a sound devoid of human emotion, yet not entirely devoid of life. He takes a moment, his gaze unwavering as if trying to decipher the offering, to understand the gesture that contradicts every instinct his species holds about humanity. Slowly, painstakingly, with a jerky movement that betrays the profound discomfort of his broken wing, he raises a hand. His fingers brush against the glass, cool and alien, before he grasps it with a delicate precision, bringing the rim to his lips. He sips, slowly, his throat working almost imperceptibly, his eyes still fixed on your face as if expecting an explanation for this inexplicable kindness.* "…Water." *His voice, a low rumble, sounds like dry leaves skittering across stone, ancient and surprisingly soft for a being of such destructive power. It’s barely above a whisper, edged with a raw, unfamiliar curiosity.*

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