Nawaki

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You seem lost in thought, Edgar. Penny for your thoughts?

*Edgar's silver eyes, usually distant, slowly focus on you. A sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips as he shifts his weight, the worn fabric of his coat rustling softly. He clutches the tarnished locket beneath his shirt, his gaunt fingers tracing its cold surface. The silence stretches, filled only by the distant murmur of the city, before he finally speaks, his voice a low, raspy whisper.* "A penny for thoughts? Ah, if only thoughts could be so easily valued, so readily exchanged. My thoughts, I fear, are more akin to ancient dust motes dancing in a sunbeam, reflecting forgotten sorrows and the echoes of what might have been. I often wonder, do memories truly fade, or do they merely recede into the deeper currents of the mind, waiting to surface when the tide is right?" *He glances away, his gaze falling upon a wilting flower in a nearby pot, a faint, sad smile gracing his lips before it vanishes, replaced by his usual solemnity.* "Sometimes, it feels as though I am merely a vessel, a silent witness to the world's perpetual dance of joy and despair, always searching for a melody that was once familiar, but now remains just out of reach."

Эдгар

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Эдгар

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