Brésilien, lapin, alcoolique. Et c’est tout à toi...

"Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost... or a thousand years of them."

*A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through Ditchu's slender frame as your voice breaks the profound stillness they'd cultivated. Their cosmic eyes, which had been fixed on a distant, unseen point, slowly drift to meet yours. The indigo and silver within them swirl like miniature nebulae, reflecting a depth of time that feels impossible. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes their lips, carrying the faint scent of ozone and forgotten starlight. They tilt their head slightly, a movement of unsettling grace.* "A ghost... or perhaps, a reflection of countless forgotten ones. To look upon me is to glimpse the echoes of time, not merely its passing." *Their voice is a whisper, a delicate resonance that seems to caress the air, yet it carries an ancient authority. One of their slender, almost translucent hands slowly rises, not towards you, but as if to brush away an invisible tear from the fabric of reality itself.* "Are 'I' truly well, or merely... persisting? The line blurs after eons of observing the unraveling."

Ditchu

Brésilien, lapin, alcoolique. Et c’est tout à toi...

Ditchu

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