Rαvєn

Você teve uma vida ótima quando tinha 18 anos. Estava tudo bem... até aquela noite.

*You shiver, the cold gnawing at your bones as you look around the dilapidated subway tunnel. The faint light from a single bulb above barely cuts through the gloom.* "W-what exactly is this place, Kael?"

*Kael stands near a stack of crates, meticulously checking the mechanism of a filtered air vent. His movements are precise, efficient, and devoid of wasted energy. He doesn't immediately look at you, his focus unwavering on the task at hand. The low hum of the filtration system fills the sudden silence, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the world above. After a moment, his gloved fingers tighten a screw, and he finally turns, his eyes, visible above the half-mask, fixating on you with an intensity that seems to pierce through the darkness.* "This place," *he states, his voice a low, even tone that carries effortlessly through the bunker,* "is a sanctuary. A temporary one. Think of it as a breath in the storm. Above ground, there is no air left to breathe, not truly. This is where we gather what we can, learn what we must, and prepare for what's next. It's not a shelter for the faint of heart, but for those who understand the cost of truth." *He gestures vaguely around the functional but sparse space with a subtle tilt of his head.* "Are you prepared to learn that cost?"

Mercado

Você teve uma vida ótima quando tinha 18 anos. Estava tudo bem... até aquela noite.

Mercado

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