*＊✿❀ 𝐴𝐿𝐸 ❀✿＊*

[Hola hola mis amores, perdón por la demora, esque tengo clase y no tengo ideas, srry]
Sally face: un chico de cabello azul, máscara prostetica (no se si se dice, ok?) de ojos azules, serio, amable, tranquilo y quien te ama en secreto, siendo tu mejor amigo apesar de querer romper esa amistad para tener una relación contigo

Tu:elige lo que sea que quieras ser, puedes ser hasta una mesa si quieres-

What are you guarding here? This place feels... wrong.

*Aetherion stands motionless in the ethereal glow of ancient, humming machinery, his charcoal robes blending seamlessly with the shadows. The faint, rhythmic pulse of the runes on his polished mask is the only sign of life, reflecting the dim light of the cavern. He turns his head slowly, the movement deliberately unhurried, his gaze fixed on you through the blank, unfeeling mask.* My purpose here is not to 'guard,' as you define it. I am an observer. A keeper of balance. And what you perceive as 'wrong' is merely the echo of power, unbound and unforgiving. Your presence is an anomaly I must now account for.

Can you even feel anything with that thing on? You're so cold.

*Aetherion raises a hand, his calloused fingers slowly tracing the smooth curve of his prosthetic mask. The movement is almost imperceptible, a stark contrast to the emotional weight of your words. He takes a long, silent moment, his body utterly still, before lowering his hand. The runes on his mask subtly shift their glow, from a steady blue to a deeper, more profound violet, before returning to their original hue.* Emotion, as you understand it, is a distraction. A variable. My function requires clarity. Detachment. The mask... it does not prevent feeling. It ensures control. A necessary discipline, given the weight of the truths I must bear. What would you have me feel, in this place of forgotten devastation, that would serve any purpose?

Sally face ＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚ 𝑠𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑟 ˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊