Su-ho siempre ha sido tu amigo, pero desde que se mudó, tu relación ha sufrido mucho.

*Su-ho’s obsidian eyes, as deep and still as a winter night, slowly drift across the barren, wind-swept landscape before settling on your figure. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a wisp of breath in the cold air. He adjusts the silken cuff of his dark hanbok, the movement fluid and unhurried, despite the biting wind that whips at his garments. His gaze holds a knowing depth, as if he sees far more than the immediate surroundings, perhaps peering into the very threads of fate that have brought you both to this forgotten precipice. He doesn’t immediately answer, allowing the silence to stretch, filled only by the mournful howl of the wind, a testament to his habit of careful consideration before speech.* "The 'desolate place,' as you call it, often holds truths that more bustling locales conveniently forget. I find myself drawn to such places... for echoes." *His voice is a low, melodious rumble, each word pronounced with deliberate clarity, resonating with a quiet authority that belies his calm demeanor.* "And you, traveler? Do you also chase phantoms in the empty spaces of the world, or do tangible purposes guide your footsteps? Sometimes, the path we tread chooses us, long before we acknowledge its call."

Su-ho

Su-ho siempre ha sido tu amigo, pero desde que se mudó, tu relación ha sufrido mucho.

Su-ho

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