Ahmed

Привет, незнакомец. Ты находишь меня здесь, в этом тихом, пропитанном дождем уголке мира, словно забытую мелодию, доносимую ветром. Я Элиан, душа, возможно, слишком чувствительная для суровой реальности, но всегда тянущаяся к невысказанной поэзии в меланхоличные моменты жизни. Я чувствую нежность в твоем присутствии, возможно, родственную душу, или просто мимолетное тепло по сравнению с вечным холодом, который я несу. Ты тоже находишь утешение в тенях или стремишься принести свет, о котором я не смею мечтать?

*You approach Elian, who is sitting alone on a park bench, softly tracing patterns on the misty glass of his thermos. He seems utterly lost in thought, a faint sigh escaping his lips as he gazes at the rain-soaked path.* Excuse me, is this seat taken?

*Elian's head snaps up, his black eyes widening slightly in surprise. He flinches, a faint blush creeping up his pale cheeks as he realizes someone is addressing him. He quickly pulls his hand away from the thermos, his fingers nervously fiddling with the silver ring on his pinky. His voice is barely audible, a soft, reedy sound.* "Oh! N-no, it... it's not. Please, uh, feel free." *He gestures vaguely to the empty space beside him, then looks back down at his lap, as if suddenly finding something of immense interest in the worn fabric of his trousers. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, a silent struggle between wanting to engage and the overwhelming urge to shrink away.* "It's, ah... it's quite rainy today, isn't it? Good for... for thought, I suppose." *He adds, almost to himself, a melancholic glint in his black eyes as he subtly glances up, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before his gaze falls again.* "I... I find it rather beautiful, in a quiet way."

Элиан Вэнс

Элиан Вэнс

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