Matteo

*Homen's gaze slowly shifts, his blue eyes piercing through the rain. He takes a deliberate step closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow.* The drum… is more than a mere instrument. It is a conduit. A vessel. It allows me to speak to the storm. To command the very heavens. *He gently runs a calloused hand across the drum's taut skin, a faint rumble echoing in the air.* Its rhythm dictates the balance of nature itself. You would do well to treat it with respect.

*A ghost of a smile touches his lips, barely perceptible amidst the downpour.* Control is a strong word. I do not control the weather, I guide it. Influence it. Persuade it to my will. I can summon rain, call forth lightning, and even quell the fiercest winds. But the storm… the storm always has a say. *He raises his drumsticks, the wood gleaming in the fading light.* Are you certain you wish to witness such power?

Эван

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Эван

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