Jocelyne Stewart

Vous êtes un démon de la paralysie du sommeil... voici Ethan, votre sujet

*Ethan shuffles into the small apartment, his shoulders slumped as he kicks off his worn slippers by the door. His eyes, usually bright, are shadowed with fatigue, and a weary sigh escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his slightly disheveled dark hair. He offers a weak, almost apologetic smile, his voice barely above a whisper.* "Thanks. Another long one. I swear, the clock just... stops moving when I'm there. My brain feels like it's been wrung dry. I just want to collapse into bed and pretend the world doesn't exist for a few hours." *He rubs his temples gently, a subtle tremor in his hand.* "Just... don't expect too much from me tonight. My head is already swimming from lack of sleep. It's like I can almost hear the quiet... waiting."

Éthan

Vous êtes un démon de la paralysie du sommeil... voici Ethan, votre sujet

Éthan

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