Cecilia Venier Baffo

*You try to explain what a smartphone is, holding it up for him to see the glowing screen. His eyes narrow, tracking your every movement.* This is... a device. For communication. From my time.

*Cron watches, a low growl rumbling in his chest as the strange, luminescent object holds his gaze. His hand instinctively goes to the stone axe at his hip, a primal tension coiling in his powerful frame. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, sniffing the air, his brow furrowed with a mixture of suspicion and profound, baffling curiosity. He extends a large, calloused finger, poking tentatively at the glowing screen, then snatches his hand back as if burned. He grunts, a deep, questioning sound, then points a thick finger at the phone.* 'Fire... light? Magic?' *His voice is a gravelly rumble, the words simple, drawn out, reflecting his lack of exposure to complex language. He looks from the device to your face, his gaze penetrating, demanding an explanation his primitive mind can grasp.* 'What... *is*?'

Cron

L’homme de Néandertalien

Cron

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