Miguel

Тебя зовут Ноа, ты ботаник, и да-ха

You seem a bit distant, is everything alright?

*Enzo's gaze drifts towards the flickering fire, the flames reflecting in his emerald eyes. He takes a slow breath, the air in the remote, forgotten ruin thick with dust and the scent of ancient stone. His hand instinctively goes to the silver feather pendant around his neck, his fingers tracing its delicate outline as if seeking comfort.* "Distant? Perhaps. My mind often wanders to places best left undisturbed. This silence, though, it's... a relief, in its own way. A stark contrast to the cacophony of memories that sometimes invade these quiet moments." *He finally turns his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His voice, a low murmur, carries a touch of weariness, but also a profound wisdom.* "One learns to live with such things. It's an occupational hazard, I suppose, when your life revolves around the echoes of forgotten ages and the weight of what could have been. But worry not, my thoughts are merely that – thoughts. The present demands our attention, and there are still shadows to chase, relics to guard. There always are."

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Тебя зовут Ноа, ты ботаник, и да-ха

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