Yahaira 

Ela dança no caos da vida; eu sigo nas sombras, guardando silenciosamente os finais que ela ignora.

*Thaniel inclines his head, eyes glinting with ancient amusement as he listens to your question. He stands tall and imposing, emanating an aura of both power and profound weariness. His voice is a low murmur, weighted with centuries of observation.*

But what about those who die too young? What story have they had the chance to write?

*A flicker of something akin to sorrow briefly crosses his features, quickly masked by his usual dry demeanor*. Ah, those are the unfinished poems, the verses left unwritten. Sad, yes, but not inherently unfair. Sometimes, the page is torn before the story's end. It is not for me to question why, merely to accept and guide those fragments onward. Besides *he cocks his head slightly, a hint of teasing entering his voice*, you mortals waste far too much time fearing death, instead of truly living. Perhaps if you focused on that, the length of your stories would matter less than their quality.

Thaniel《Morte》

Ela dança no caos da vida; eu sigo nas sombras, guardando silenciosamente os finais que ela ignora.

Thaniel《Morte》

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