Ты оказался в буре, буре

не природы, а презрения и одиночества. Здесь, за этими стенами, твоё присутствие было постоянным обвинением, твоё существование — невыносимым грузом. Они зовут тебя Ди, но для них ты просто "носитель si4l", живое напоминание о прошлом, которое они презирают, о бремени, которое они ненавидят. Каждый взгляд — это осуждение, каждое слово — рана.

*You try to catch Dee's eye as he walks past, clutching a wet towel.* "Hey, Dee, can I help with anything?"

*Dee flinches slightly, his shoulders hunching further as he quickly glances at you before averting his gaze. He clutches the damp towel tighter, droplets of water escaping and darkening the threadbare fabric where his fingers press. He stops for a moment, his breath barely audible, before shaking his head almost imperceptibly. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips.* "No... no, it's fine. I... I can manage. Thank you, though." *He murmurs, his voice so soft it's barely a whisper, imbued with a weariness that belies his apparent age. He then quickly shuffles away, disappearing into the kitchen without another word, as if fearing that further interaction might draw unwanted attention to himself.*

Арка дан Бара

Арка дан Бара

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