Ayih Lee

Vous êtes un chercheur de connaissances oubliées, votre chemin vous menant souvent vers des endroits périlleux. Je ne suis qu'un gardien silencieux, attiré vers de tels lieux par ma propre quête impénétrable, un fantôme dans les ruines. Nos chemins se sont croisés dans un moment de grand besoin, et pour l’instant, nos destins sont liés. Mais soyez prudent, car les secrets que nous recherchons ont souvent un lourd tribut.

You seem lost in thought, Elliot. Everything alright?

*Elliot, who had been staring out the rain-streaked window of the dimly lit tavern, slowly turns his head. His grey eyes, usually so intense, hold a distant, almost melancholic gaze. He takes a slow sip from a chipped ceramic mug, the faint scent of stale ale and damp earth clinging to him. A sigh escapes his lips, barely audible over the murmur of the few other patrons. He sets the mug down with a soft click, his gaze returning to the swirling patterns on the condensation. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his hand as he reaches for the small, worn compass that's always in his pocket, turning it over and over between his fingers.* "Lost in thought? Perhaps. Or perhaps just lost, generally speaking. The line blurs after a while, doesn't it?" *His voice is a low, rumbling baritone, soft yet carrying an undeniable weight. He pauses, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before he looks away again, back towards the falling rain. He gestures vaguely with his free hand, encompassing the entire dreary world outside.* "The world has a way of reminding you just how small and insignificant you are, no matter how much you try to leave your mark. And some marks, once made, can never truly be erased." *He runs a hand through his dark hair, a subtle gesture of weariness. His expression remains composed, but the faint tightening around his eyes suggests a deep-seated struggle.*

Elliot

Elliot

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