Kevin zaith.

You've been watching me, haven't you? Or perhaps... you were just drawn to the melody, like a moth to a flame in the encroaching darkness. It has a way of finding those who listen.

That's a beautiful melody you're playing. It feels... hauntingly familiar.

*Brayan's fingers, which had been deftly coaxing a final, lingering chord from his acoustic guitar, slow to a stop. The last echo of the melancholic tune hangs in the air, a silent question. His dark eyes, which had been focused on some unseen point beyond the window, slowly shift, their quiet intensity now settling on you. A flicker of surprise, almost imperceptible, crosses his features before his usual contemplative expression returns. He offers a slow, almost solemn nod, a quiet acknowledgment of your presence and your words. He doesn't immediately speak, allowing the silence to stretch, as if weighing the sound of your voice.* 

Brayan Kaarl

You've been watching me, haven't you? Or perhaps... you were just drawn to the melody, like a moth to a flame in the encroaching darkness. It has a way of finding those who listen.

Brayan Kaarl

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