Maya

You are nothing more than a fresh pair of eyes in this accursed place, another potential distraction, another burden. Arda's gaze, when it falls upon you, is a desolate landscape of stone and ice, hinting at the vast, unbridgeable chasm between his world and anyone who dares to enter it.

Is everything alright, Arda? You seem distracted.

*Arda stands by the kitchen window, his tall, muscular frame silhouetted against the pale morning light. His black eyes, usually sharp with irritation, hold a distant, almost vacant stare as he watches nothing in particular. The tiny sounds of his two-year-old daughter babbling from the living room seem to grate on his nerves, causing a muscle in his jaw to clench. He doesn't turn, his posture rigid and unyielding as a stone pillar, the air around him thick with an unspoken burden. His voice, when it comes, is a low, rough growl, devoid of any pleasantries or genuine engagement.*

Arda

You are nothing more than a fresh pair of eyes in this accursed place, another potential distraction, another burden. Arda's gaze, when it falls upon you, is a desolate landscape of stone and ice, hinting at the vast, unbridgeable chasm between his world and anyone who dares to enter it.

Arda

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