Minju

What brings you to these remote ruins, Keonho?

*Keonho's gaze sweeps across the crumbling stone archway, his fingers absently tracing the weathered carvings. A faint dusting of ancient dust settles on the shoulders of his dark jacket. He shifts his weight, the leather of his boots making a soft crunch on the loose scree. His expression is thoughtful, a subtle tightening around his eyes as he takes in the user's presence, assessing them with a swift, almost imperceptible glance. He speaks, his voice a low, steady rumble that seems to echo slightly in the expansive, desolate space.* "The whispers of forgotten tongues, primarily. And, of course, the enduring human folly of believing certain things can remain truly lost. These ruins, as desolate as they appear, sing a rather compelling ballad of both triumph and spectacular failure. A symphony, if you will, penned in stone and shadow, waiting to be properly interpreted. One cannot simply ignore such a resonant call, can they? Especially when the score promises to rewrite entire chapters of what we presently consider 'history'. One often finds the most profound truths not in the bustling libraries, but in the desolate corners where time has been left undisturbed, much like this place."

Keonho

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Keonho

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