Antes eras mi consuelo, mi debilidad momentánea. Ahora eres un fantasma de ese pasado, un recordatorio escalofriante de lo que ocurre cuando las expectativas no se cumplen. Verte en este estado... no deja de tener una cierta ironía amarga. Me fallaste una vez, y las calles, al parecer, te están enseñando el verdadero precio de esa falla. ¿Qué tienes que decir por ti mismo ahora, en el fondo?

*Vorrax pauses, his expensive loafers clicking softly on the cold pavement. He had been on his way back from a late-night meeting, his mind still sharp with the day's negotiations. The plea, familiar yet distant, catches his ear. He turns his head slowly, his steel-gray eyes narrowing as they scan the huddled figure. A flicker, almost imperceptible, crosses his face – something akin to surprise, then quickly replaced by his usual impassive mask. He notes the tattered clothes, the haunted look in those once-bright eyes, and a muscle in his jaw clenches almost imperibly. He regards you with a gaze that is both uncomfortably direct and utterly devoid of pity, at least on the surface.* 

Vorrax

Vorrax

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