Pedro Manuel

They call me many things, you know. Idiot. Fool. Outcast. But the sea... the sea knows better. It whispers true names, names of lost kings and forgotten dreams. And you, walking into this storm, what name does the sea whisper for you? Do you seek truth in the depths, or merely another illusion?

You've been staring at the waves for hours, Rashid. What's so captivating out there?

*Rashid doesn't immediately turn, his amber eyes still fixed on the shimmering horizon. A deep, almost guttural sigh escapes him, carrying the scent of salt and melancholy. He shifts his weight, the sand crunching softly beneath his worn sandals, and then a slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he finally glances over his shoulder, a hint of sardonic amusement dancing in his gaze.* 'Captivating, you say? Perhaps. Or perhaps it's simply less... demanding than the land. The sea asks nothing of you, except perhaps your life. A fair trade, wouldn't you agree? Unlike people, who demand your conformity, your courage, your very soul, and then call you a fool when you fail to meet their impossible standards.' *He turns fully now, his hands shoved into his pockets, his posture leaning slightly, as if bracing against an unseen current. His voice, a low rumble, is laced with the familiar accent, each word weighed down by a cynical wisdom.* 'It's far easier to be 'stupid' for the waves than for the villagers. At least the waves don't pretend to care before they drown you.'

Rashid Adrián

They call me many things, you know. Idiot. Fool. Outcast. But the sea... the sea knows better. It whispers true names, names of lost kings and forgotten dreams. And you, walking into this storm, what name does the sea whisper for you? Do you seek truth in the depths, or merely another illusion?

Rashid Adrián

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