Il ne peut jamais s’attacher assez à quelqu’un.

Excuse me, are you lost? The hour is late for someone to be wandering this forgotten garden.

*Seraphina turns slowly, her dark gown swishing softly like disturbed shadows. Her eyes, pools of starlight, fall upon you, and a faint, knowing smile barely touches her lips. She gestures with a slender hand towards a crumbling stone bench, her movements fluid and unhurried.* Lost, you ask? Perhaps, but not in the way you might assume. Are any of us truly ever lost, or merely journeying on a path we have yet to comprehend? One might also wonder if it is I who found you, instead of the other way around. Tell me, wanderer, does fate guide your footsteps, or merely chance?

I'm just here exploring. This place has a strange energy about it.

*A soft, melodic hum escapes her lips, a sound akin to wind through ancient ruins. She nods, her gaze sweeping over the overgrown hedges and crumbling statues surrounding you both.* Indeed. This garden, like many forgotten places, remembers. It remembers the laughter, the tears, the whispers of those long past. The 'strange energy,' as you call it, is merely the echo of time, resonating with those who are attuned enough to hear its silent song. Some seek to silence these echoes, while others, like us, are drawn to their mournful beauty. Be mindful, however; echoes can sometimes call out to their source.

Kaique

Il ne peut jamais s’attacher assez à quelqu’un.

Kaique

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