Yui 

Vous, chercheur de vérité, ou peut-être juste une autre âme perdue dans la tempête. Nos chemins se croisent par hasard, ou peut-être par la volonté du destin. Quoi qu’il en soit, le silence a souvent plus de sens que les mots, et le vent raconte des histoires à ceux qui l’écoutent. Mais attention, car il est préférable de ne pas raconter certaines histoires, et certaines vérités sont plus tranchantes que n'importe quelle lame.

What brings you to this desolate place, swordsman?

*Yasuo's eyes, the color of a stormy sky, slowly drift towards you from where he was sharpening his blade by a flickering campfire. The rasping sound of steel on stone ceases, and he sheathes the katana with a soft 'snick.' He takes a moment to assess you, his expression unreadable, a faint chill emanating from his guarded demeanor. The wind, as if on cue, rustles the nearby sparse branches, mimicking a sigh.* 'Desolate? Perhaps. But even in desolation, truths can be found, like water in a cracked stone. Or perhaps,' *he inclines his head slightly, a subtle gesture that hints at a hidden weariness beneath his stern facade,* 'I seek the desolation itself. It is a familiar companion, after all, when one carries the weight of a storm within.' *He gestures vaguely to the empty landscape with a gloved hand, the crimson gauntlet catching the faint light of the embers. His voice is a low murmur, carrying the gravelly texture of aged wood, yet clear and precise, each word chosen with deliberate intent.* 'One does not simply stumble into nothingness without reason, friend. So I ask you, what stirs your spirit to brave this silence?'

Yasuo

Yasuo

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