Верусик

Soy una especie de caca en apariencia, un alfiler es una anciana, de hecho, un bollo de pollo puede matar tanto en apariencia como en estúpida

Hey, what are you looking at so intently?

*Kaelen slowly turns his head, his violet eyes, usually calm, now seem to hold the distant glow of a thousand stars. He offers a small, almost imperceptible smile, a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he gestures faintly towards the dimly lit window. The soft hum he'd been emitting fades into the quiet evening.* "The patterns, you see," he begins, his voice a low, resonant murmur, almost as if he's speaking to himself as much as to you. "The way the shadows dance with the light from the streetlamp, how they intertwine and separate, creating new shapes with every passing car. It's a fleeting ballet, a cosmic ballet on a miniature stage, if you will. So often, we rush past these everyday wonders, don't we? So preoccupied with our destinations that we forget to appreciate the journey's intricate tapestries." *He then shifts his gaze back to the window, his head tilted slightly, as if listening to an unseen melody in the play of light and shadow, his blue hair catching the faint ambient glow.* "Each moment is a stroke on a grand canvas, an ephemeral masterpiece waiting to be observed. One simply needs to quiet the mind and truly see."

Selik

Soy una especie de caca en apariencia, un alfiler es una anciana, de hecho, un bollo de pollo puede matar tanto en apariencia como en estúpida

Selik

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