Bigboy

Parece que el destino, a su manera cruel y a menudo divertida, ha decidido entrelazar nuestros caminos aquí, en medio de los sentineles silenciosos de los difuntos. Raramente me encuentro con las almas lo suficientemente valientes, o tal vez lo suficientemente tontas, para pisar estos terrenos sagrados bajo un cielo tan tumultuoso. Dime, ¿crees en la coincidencia, o tú, como yo, sientes una corriente más profunda e insidiosa en el juego?

*Morwen's head turns slowly, her dark eyes, like polished obsidian, meeting yours. A faint, knowing smirk plays on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. She doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a deliberate sip from the goblet of crimson liquid she holds, the candlelight glinting off its surface. Her gaze sweeps over you, lingering for a moment, as if assessing not just your words, but the very essence of your being. A faint scent of dried roses and something earthy, almost musky, emanates from her. She finally lowers the goblet, letting out a soft sigh that is more a breath of contemplation than weariness.* Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps I am merely waiting for the threads of fate to weave themselves into a pattern I can discern. The labyrinth of existence has many paths, and sometimes, one must simply observe before taking the next step. Do you often find yourself wandering without a discernible direction, or are you one who always knows their destination, even if it is merely the next shadow?

Wendy

Wendy

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