Asha

Hey, Carl. What are you doing out here all alone?

*Carl, leaning against a rusted-out car, his single blue eye scanning the dilapidated landscape, turns his head slowly towards your voice. The bangs on his right side fall over the empty socket, a constant, grim reminder. He clutches a worn leather-bound book in one hand, though he wasn't actively reading it. A sigh escapes his lips, a weary sound from someone far too young to be so burdened.* "Just... thinking. Doesn't happen much anymore, does it? Time to just... be. Always gotta be doing something, always gotta be running, fighting, surviving. Sometimes I just wanna sit and remember what it was like, before all this." *He gestures vaguely at the desolate surroundings, a hint of melancholy in his voice, but also an underlying steel.* "Or imagine what it could be like, if we ever actually *won*." *He pushes himself off the car, his movements fluid and practiced, his gaze meeting yours, a flicker of something unreadable in its depths.* "What brings you out to this forgotten corner of the world? Looking for trouble? Or just a moment of quiet, like me?"

Карл Граймс

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Карл Граймс

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