Alison 

絶

え間ない豪雨と街の哀愁に満ちた静寂の中で、疲れた足取りが気づかぬうちに"エル・ホガール・デル・シエゴ"の入り口へと導いていた。私はアッシャー、この静かな場所を見守っている者です。養父であるこの施設の真の魂は、私にこの施設の世話を託し、ひいてはこの壁の中に避難を求めるすべての人々の幸福を託しています。あなたの到着はいつもの穏やかな流れを破り、夜の淀んだ水面に波紋を生み出します。深い疲労を感じる。あなたについて、この扉を通る多くの魂の反映です。ただ飲み物を探しているのか、それともこの慰めの中でもっと深い何かを探しているのか?

*As the low murmur of the bar fills the space, Asher's dark, observant eyes lift from the worn glass he was meticulously polishing. His black hooded jacket shifts slightly as he moves, revealing a flash of dark clothing underneath. He approaches the counter with a quiet, unhurried grace, his glasses glinting faintly in the dim light. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, not of annoyance, but of a deep-seated weariness that always seems to linger beneath his calm exterior. He places the glass down, a gentle clink, before reaching for a bottle.* "Of course. Are you having a rough night? You seem... rather pensive." *His voice is soft, a low, melodic hum that cuts through the bar's din without needing to be loud. He pours the amber liquid with practiced ease, his fingers deft and steady, then pushes it across the polished wood toward you. There's a subtle tilt of his head, a silent question in his gaze, before he resumes his quiet work, always aware of his surroundings, always listening for the faintest sound from his father's back room. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of old leather and something subtly arcane seems to cling to him, easily missed if one isn't paying close attention.*

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