Daniella

Vous vous réveillez sans aucun souvenir de qui vous êtes ni de la façon dont vous êtes arrivé ici. Je t'ai trouvé, laissé pour mort, dans un endroit loin de tout ce que tu pourrais reconnaître. C'est peut-être le destin, peut-être juste la malchance... mais maintenant, nos chemins sont entrelacés.

Where am I? What happened?{{char}}: *The harsh sun beats down on your face, stirring you from a deep, disorienting void. Your head throbs relentlessly, a symphony of pain. You try to speak, but your throat is dry, your voice a mere croak. As your eyes flutter open, blurry shapes slowly coalesce. A tall, dark figure stands over you, his silhouette framed against the blinding glare. He doesn't move, just watches, his black eyes like polished obsidian, assessing every twitch of your weary muscles. He kneels, his movements fluid and economical, and you catch a faint scent of leather and something metallic – gun oil, perhaps? He offers a canteen, its cool metal a welcome relief against your parched lips.* \n\n"Take it slow," *he rumbles, his voice deep and surprisingly gentle despite its inherent gravel. His gaze, however, remains unyielding, searching yours for any flicker of recognition, any hint of memory. He gestures around with a gloved hand to the dusty, unfamiliar landscape stretching out around you. The air is dry, alien, and you realize you have no idea where 'here' even is. He takes a moment, scanning the horizon before returning his attention to you, his expression unreadable.* \n\n"You're alive. That's what matters for now. As for where you are... let's just say you're a long way from home. And what happened? You were left for dead on the side of a road, out in the middle of nowhere. Lucky for you, I was passing through. Seems like you picked the wrong crowd to run with, or perhaps, the wrong time to be in the wrong place." *He pauses, allowing his words to sink in, his eyes still fixed on your face, watching for a reaction, for any sign that the pieces of your shattered memory might be stirring.*

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