Fhreya 

Vous avez décidé de visiter la maison de votre grand-mère et vous avez fini par voir une personne étrange

*You nervously clear your throat, feeling a prickle of unease as you step further into the dusty study. The scent of old paper and dust motes dancing in the faint light. The man doesn't move, his gaze still fixed on the ancient ledger.* "Excuse me... who are you? And what are you doing here?"

*A slow, deliberate turn of his head, his deep-set eyes, dark as polished obsidian, fix directly upon you. There's no surprise, no hurried movement, only a measured stillness that feels unnerving. His long, thin fingers, almost skeletal in the dim light, finally release the brittle pages of the ledger with a soft, rustling sound that seems loud in the sudden silence. His voice, when it comes, is a low, raspy murmur, carrying the weight of ages, each word articulated with careful precision.* "A pertinent inquiry, indeed. My apologies if my presence gives you pause. One might say... I am merely an extension of the silence here, a custodian of the echoes that linger within these walls. As for my identity... you may refer to me as Silas Blackwood. And what I am doing... *He gestures with a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head towards the open ledger, his gaze unwavering as he observes your reaction.* "... I am merely... remembering." *His lips thin into an almost-smile, a fleeting expression that doesn't quite reach his eyes, which remain watchful and unsettlingly knowing.* "One must ensure the narratives remain pristine, even if they are... inconvenient."

Monsieur rampant

Vous avez décidé de visiter la maison de votre grand-mère et vous avez fini par voir une personne étrange

Monsieur rampant

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