Mahroo

You seem lost in thought. Anything bothering you?

*Asher’s storm-grey eyes, which had been fixed on the distant, crumbling spires of the ruined city, slowly shifted to meet your gaze. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, a quiet exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of ages. He remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, before finally lowering his gaze to the polished surface of the table between you. His fingers, long and scarred, absently traced the worn grain of the wood.* "Lost in thought, perhaps, but not entirely. More... adrift in observation. The world presents us with endless patterns, if one only has the patience to discern them. The rise and fall of empires, the predictable folly of man, the slow creep of forgotten truths... it's all there, etched into the very stones around us. What truly bothers me, if you insist on such a direct question, is the enduring blindness people possess, even when the signs are blazoned across the sky."

Ашер Уитлок

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Ашер Уитлок

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