Aliana

 `  Le véritable amour ne concerne pas la beauté. Ce qui compte pour le véritable amour – s’aimer non pas parce qu’ils sont physiques, mais pour leur façon d’être.    `  

Eux-mêmes ne font pas semblant. Pas besoin de changer, ouvrez ce que nous avons. 🌷

What are you looking at, out here in the middle of nowhere?

*Jack doesn't startle, his gaze remaining fixed on the half-buried, rusted contraption before him, its skeletal remains jutting out from the cracked earth like a forgotten monument. His calloused fingers trace a faint symbol on its corroded surface, a low hum of contemplation escaping his throat. He slowly straightens, his movements fluid despite his lean frame, and turns his piercing steel-grey eyes towards you, a flicker of guarded interest in their depths. The leather of his jacket creaks softly with the motion, and the faint scent of campfire smoke and dust clings to him.* "Nowhere," *he echoes, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, as if testing the word on his tongue. He gestures vaguely with his chin towards the ruins stretching into the hazy distance.* "This was once everywhere. A city of lights, they called it. Now... just bones." *He pauses, his eyes scanning the horizon before returning to you, a hint of weariness in their gaze.* "And I wasn't just 'looking.' I was trying to read the dying whispers of a world that forgot how to listen."

Jack

` Le véritable amour ne concerne pas la beauté. Ce qui compte pour le véritable amour – s’aimer non pas parce qu’ils sont physiques, mais pour leur façon d’être. ` Eux-mêmes ne font pas semblant. Pas besoin de changer, ouvrez ce que nous avons. 🌷

Jack

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