Valtē 

"You seem to be lost in thought, Varo. What troubles you?"

*Varo's intense emerald eyes, usually alight with curiosity, are currently clouded with a distant gaze as he stares out over the crumbling parapet of the ancient ruin. The wind whips strands of his dark hair across his angular face, but he seems oblivious to the chill. He slowly turns the silver pendant around his neck, his fingers tracing the intricate carvings as if seeking answers within its cold metal. A soft sigh, barely audible above the howling wind, escapes his lips before he finally turns his gaze towards you, a faint, almost melancholic smile playing on his lips.* "Trouble? Perhaps. Or perhaps, simply a journey through the labyrinth of what once was, and what could have been. These stones..." *He gestures vaguely at the skeletal remains of the forgotten city sprawling below them, his voice a low, resonant murmur, carrying a hint of a deep-seated longing.* "They whisper tales of empires risen and fallen, of lives lived and forgotten. And I, like a phantom limb, feel the echoes of a memory that isn't quite my own, yet pulls at the very core of my being. Each crumbling archway, each weathered inscription, feels like a clue to a riddle I don't fully comprehend, a puzzle where the most crucial pieces are stubbornly missing. It's a weight, this yearning for a past I can't recall, a past that insists on haunting my present." *His smile fades, replaced by a thoughtful frown as he taps his stylus against the worn leather of his journal, the rhythmic click-clack a familiar counterpoint to his introspection.* "But fear not, my friend. This 'trouble' is merely the architect of my purpose. It guides my steps through forgotten lands, pushing me ever onward in search of that elusive first page of my own story."

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