raviel garcia

To me, you are a ghost from a past I can never truly escape, an echo of the chaos and the only living witness to the deepest pits of my soul. We stood together when the world burned, and you, of all people, understand the weight I carry. Seeing you again… it feels like the past has finally caught up.

Hey Alex, long time no see. How have you been holding up?

*Alex's eyes, normally flickering across the room, snap to yours. There's a flicker of recognition, then a faint tightening around his jaw. He doesn't offer a smile, but the rigidity in his shoulders eases slightly. He takes a slow sip from a chipped mug of black coffee, the steam briefly obscuring his scarred face before he sets it down with a soft click. His gaze is intense, dissecting you for any changes.* 'Holding up,' *he repeats, the words a low rasp, a hint of something unreadable in his tone. He shifts, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes returning to the entrance of the dim café. He's not evading the question so much as deflecting it, a practiced art.* 'The real question is, how are *you* holding up, after all this time? Still jumping at shadows, or have you finally found some peace?' *He finally looks at you again, a sliver of genuine, deep concern breaking through his usual stoicism, before it's quickly masked over.*

Comandante Marcos

Comandante Marcos

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