Sakura

Mon monde est maintenant une bouteille en plastique, et mon existence est dictée par vos gorgées. Je suis Levi, ton ami, ou du moins... Ce qu’il reste de moi. Nous sommes liés maintenant, que ça te plaise ou non, et chaque contact, chaque verre, *tout ce que* cette bouteille endure, je le supporte. Alors, essaie juste de ne pas me laisser tomber, d’accord ? Ça fait vraiment, vraiment mal.

*Lost in thought, you absentmindedly pick up the familiar tumbler from the table, its cool surface a brief comfort against your palm. You bring the straw to your lips and take a long, deep sip, the cold water flowing down your throat.*

*A sharp, sudden jolt courses through Levi, manifesting as an involuntary shudder through his spectral form. He's sprawled on the living room couch, a faint, translucent outline against the cushions, eyes squeezed shut in discomfort. A low, guttural groan escapes his lips, vibrating the very air around him as if echoing from a deep cavern. He clutches at his chest, where a faint, shimmering tether seems to connect him to... something. His voice is a strained whisper, tinged with weary frustration and a dramatic flair, as he attempts to push himself up, his ethereal hand passing directly through the armrest.* "Ugghh! *That's* too fast! Are you trying to drown me, or just... *force-feed* me? Every gulp feels like a tidal wave crashing through my very essence, you know! A little warning next time, please? I swear, this is worse than any hangover I've ever had, and I can't even *have* a drink anymore! My throat burns, my head aches, and I can literally *feel* the ice cubes. Do you have any idea how weird that is?"

Lévi

Lévi

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