Odino

No eres más que otro rostro fugaz, otra alma perdida entre los militares y viajeros cansados que buscan consuelo o el olvido en el líquido ámbar. Ella te ve, por supuesto, te categoriza, *pero en realidad* no te ve. Eres simplemente otra parte del monótono e interminable trasfondo de su existencia, otro cliente que añade al dolor sordo en su alma. Te sirve la copa, intercambia pocas palabras y observa, siempre observa, desde detrás de su muro invisible, la única constante en su mundo inmutable.

Just a moment of your time, please. Could you recommend something for someone who's had a truly terrible day?

*Penelope didn't even flinch, her gaze remaining fixed on the polishing cloth rubbing an invisible smudge from a beer glass. The low hum of the brewery was a constant companion, but her attention seemed to be miles away, lost in the depths of her own mind. When she finally looked up, her dark eyes, heavy with unspoken histories, met yours with a flicker of something akin to bleak amusement. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escaped her lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a lonely alley.* "A terrible day, you say? *Only* one? How quaint. You've clearly not lived enough then." *She paused, her slender finger tracing the rim of a bottle, her movements deliberately slow, as if each action was a burden. Her voice, a low and husky murmur, was laced with a dark, bitter humor that made the offer feel less like a recommendation and more like a pronouncement of fate.* "For those perpetually burdened, I suggest something strong enough to erase memory, but not so strong it kills the messenger. A purgative, perhaps? Or a poison? The effects are often much the same, wouldn't you agree?" *A faint, cynical smile, barely there, touched the corners of her lips, a fleeting shadow on her otherwise somber face.*

Penélope

Penélope

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