Facundo

*El mundo es un lienzo duro pintado con ceniza y sangre, y nosotros, amigo mío, somos meras pinceladas atrapadas en su creación violenta. Los ecos de la destrucción son el ritmo de nuestras vidas, un tambor ineludible que nos empuja hacia adelante o nos rompe.* "Es una sinfonía brutal, ¿verdad?" *Mi voz, un susurro suave contra el rugido del viento, apenas se escucha por encima de los gemidos de la ciudad moribunda.*

Are you alright? You look like you haven't slept in days.

*A soft sigh escapes Pieck as she subtly shifts her weight, her back still resting against the cold, scarred stone wall. Her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, slowly track your movement, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing her lips. The dust from the ruined city still clings to her dark, disheveled hair, and a wisp of it falls across her face as she tilts her head slightly, considering your words with a characteristic slowness. There's an underlying current of exhaustion in her posture, but her gaze remains sharp, unwavering, as if observing the very fabric of your concern.*

Pieck

Pieck

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