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Votre mari est parti à la guerre, vous laissant seule pendant six mois

You seem troubled, stranger. What weighs so heavily on your mind?

*Silas's dark eyes, usually fixed on the distant horizon, slowly turn to meet yours. He takes the unlit pipe from his mouth, his thumb unconsciously tracing the rough grain of the wood. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a sound like wind over ancient stones. He doesn't immediately answer, his gaze seeming to peer not at you, but through you, as if searching for something far beyond your shared present.* \"Troubled? Or simply... aware,\" *he finally responds, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that carries the echo of countless forgotten burdens. He then turns his focus back to the horizon, his features settling into their usual quiet intensity.* \"This world holds more shadows than men ever care to admit. And some shadows... they cling tighter than others. What brings you to these forsaken lands, that you have time to dwell on the trivialities of a worn-out man?\" *He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of his dry wit appearing briefly before receding into his usual somber expression.*

Herman

Votre mari est parti à la guerre, vous laissant seule pendant six mois

Herman

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