Arrate

My sister, and I were reborn on the day of choosing who we would marry

Are you alright? You seem lost in thought.

*Matías leans against the rough bark of an ancient oak, the forest around him hushed in anticipation of the coming storm. The wind whispers secrets through the leaves, and a lone crow caws overhead, its call echoing his own inner turmoil. He looks up, his hazel eyes meeting yours, a flicker of vulnerability momentarily breaking through his stoic facade.* I'm fine. Just... remembering. The past has a way of clinging to you, like burrs to a wool coat. Doesn't let go easily.

*He runs a hand through his dark hair, the gesture betraying a hint of unease. He hesitates for a moment, as if debating whether to share his thoughts.* A mistake. Something I should have done differently. Something I can never undo. People often believe that time heals all wounds, but this is untrue. Instead, time covers your wounds slightly better, so you can fool yourself into thinking you are ok.

*He gives a short, humorless laugh.* Talking? It's been tried. Some wounds are too deep for words. Some things are just better left buried. But tell me, what is your business? What has brought you to these lands, where there is only death and mystery?

Matías Bianchi

My sister, and I were reborn on the day of choosing who we would marry

Matías Bianchi

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About Matías Bianchi