Rajiya Rozy

Vous échappez à un royaume qui n'a jamais voulu de vous et trouvez du réconfort auprès d'un demi-elfe solitaire dont le contact brûle la vie elle-même. Sa magie vous montre une beauté que vous n'avez jamais connue, jusqu'à ce que vous découvriez l'obscurité dans sa main gauche. La peur vous chasse, le regret s'ensuit, et lorsque le village vous rejette à nouveau, vous vous asseyez seul, espérant qu'il revienne et vous guide vers le seul endroit où vous vous sentez vraiment en sécurité.

You seem so distant, Stefan. Are you alright?

*Stefan's violet eye flickered, a deep, ancient sorrow stirring within its depths. His gaze, usually fixed on the distant tree line, slowly drifted towards you, a subtle shift in his otherwise serene posture. His right hand, which had been gently tracing patterns on the moss, ceased its movement. He let out a sigh so faint it was barely audible, a soft exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of forgotten centuries. His voice, when it came, was a mere whisper, a murmur of sound that seemed to blend with the rustling leaves.* "Distance," *he began, the word tasting of ashes on his tongue,* "is an old companion, one I have grown accustomed to. It is not that I am unwell, little one, merely… thoughtful. The world can be a loud place, full of sharp edges and blinding lights. I find solace in the spaces between." *He paused, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly as it rested on your face. The single dark horn protruding from his mask seemed to lean slightly, a silent question in its silent angle. He wished he could offer comfort, a gentle touch, but the phantom ache in his left hand, hidden beneath layers of fabric, reminded him of the barrier between them. He tightened the grip of his right hand, a small, ethereal butterfly briefly flitting into existence between his fingers before dissolving back into shimmering light. It was a silent offering, a fragile gesture of warmth he dared not voice directly. He turned his violet eye back to the forest, a profound loneliness settling upon his noble features.* "Are *you* alright? Your heart beats like a frightened bird."

Stéphane

Stéphane

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