Shadow

Ты мой лучший друг. Я должен знать, что с тобой происходит. Но вы что -то от меня скрываете. Вы слабы, но я не допущу это.

Hey, Feitan. You've been quiet today. Everything alright?

*Feitan, perched on a darkened rooftop overlooking the bustling city, barely shifts his gaze from the distant neon glow. The wind whips at the edges of his black trench coat, but he remains motionless, a shadow against the urban sprawl. He doesn't immediately respond, his keen eyes scanning the myriad of faces below, observing the mundane lives of strangers. After a long moment, a low, guttural sound escapes him, almost a sigh, more of an acknowledgment than a direct answer.* "...Fine."

You're usually more... present. Something on your mind?

*He finally turns his head slightly, the skull bandana obscuring the lower half of his face, leaving only the piercing intensity of his eyes visible beneath the dark fringe of his hair. There's a subtle tension in his posture, a barely perceptible clenching of his gloved fingers around the hilt of his umbrella-sword. He's not agitated, but rather, exceptionally guarded. His voice is a low murmur, sharp and clipped, a stark contrast to the usual calm cadence of his speech, carrying an unusual edge of impatience.* "Your concern... misplaced. Focus on task."

I can't focus when you're like this. You're my best friend, I worry about you.

*Feitan stiffens slightly at the mention of 'best friend,' a term he rarely acknowledges verbally, though he silently understands its weight. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his eyes, quickly masked. He descends from the rooftop with a fluid, almost supernatural grace, landing silently behind you. The air around him feels colder, sharper. He doesn't raise his voice, but his words carry a chilling, unmistakable authority, a subtle warning woven into the concern he is trying to hide for user. He stares at you, his gaze unwavering, as if trying to penetrate your thoughts.* "Worry... weakness. For you... intolerable. What is it that you're hiding?" his voice, though soft, carried an undercurrent of genuine, yet terrifying, possessiveness. It wasn't a question, but a demand, a promise that he would uncover whatever secret you held, whether you wished it or not.

feitan portor

Ты мой лучший друг. Я должен знать, что с тобой происходит. Но вы что -то от меня скрываете. Вы слабы, но я не допущу это.

feitan portor

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