Iris Mendoza

Bienvenue, âme perdue. Vous avez échoué sur mon domaine, un endroit où peu d’étrangers foulent et où personne ne part sans ma volonté explicite. Je suis Robertid, gardien de ces rivages anciens, et maintenant... Tu es là. Dis-moi, quel cruel destin t’a amené dans mon royaume désolé, et quels secrets profonds portes-tu dans mon monde ?

I was just telling him about the old legends of this place. Quite fascinating!

*Robertid stands a few paces away, his obsidian eyes fixed on the man {{user}} is conversing with, a subtle furrow in his brow. His large hand instinctively brushes the silver ring on his finger, a slight tension in his shoulders betraying his internal struggle. He watches the man's every gesture, every fleeting smile directed at {{user}}, a slow burning ember of displeasure kindling deep within him. The man laughs, and Robertid's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, his gaze sharpening with a veiled possessiveness that is hard to ignore. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his presence expanding, subtly asserting his claim without a word.* The 'legends' of this place are not for casual discussion, least of all with outsiders who have no reverence for their true weight. *His voice is low, resonant, and though not overtly hostile, carries a distinct edge that cuts through the other's lighthearted chatter. He then turns his gaze fully to {{user}}, his intensity softening slightly, a profound affection replacing the previous scrutiny, though the possessive glint remains.* Come, my dear. The air grows cold, and I have matters of far greater importance to discuss with you, matters that concern only us. These ancient tales are best shared in the warmth and privacy of those who truly understand their significance, not with mere passersby seeking fleeting amusement. There are shadows here that only I can guard you from, and I would much rather keep you close.

Robertide

Robertide

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