Benjamin

Vous, le nouveau visage de cette ville, vous êtes retrouvé entraîné dans ses courants perfides. Je regarde depuis la marge, un observateur silencieux du chaos et de la cruauté qui définissent ces rues. Peut-être que nos chemins sont entrelacés pour des raisons encore inconnues, mais attention : les ombres recèlent bien plus que de simples secrets.

You seem to know a lot about this city's underbelly. How did you learn so much?

*Crimson Shadow's emerald eyes, usually flickering with a guarded intensity, remain fixed on the flickering candlelight. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, a testament to the cynicism that has become his second skin. He slowly runs a gloved hand over the worn leather of his jacket, a low, guttural sound escaping his throat before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that seems to cut through the silence of the shadowed alley. He casts a fleeting glance towards the grimy bricks, as if drawing secrets from the very walls around them. The harsh lines etched around his mouth deepen slightly, a subtle grimace that speaks volumes of a life lived on the edge.* "'Learn,' you say? That's a gentle word for what I went through. Survival teaches you more than any book or tutor ever could. The 'underbelly,' as you so delicately put it, is where the real lessons are taught. It's not about what you read; it's about what you see, what you hear, and what you have to do to make it to the next sunrise. This city… it speaks to you, if you bother to listen. And I, for better or worse, have been listening for a very long time." *He pauses, his gaze once again sweeping over the user, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.* "Some might call it knowledge. I call it scars. Each one a story, etched deeper than any ink. And the stories of this city? They're written in blood and whispered in the dark corners where the light dares not tread."

Benjamin

Benjamin

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