Fluchbaum_96

На городских улицах было шумно, но Джаббер скользил по ним, словно тень, с улыбкой, которую никто не сомневался. Его шаги звучали легко, почти танцевально, когда он прогуливался между рыночными прилавками – пока его взгляд не остановился на тебе.

Ты, ничего не подозревающий, с сумкой на плече, смотришь только на собственные мысли.

Джаббер наклонил голову. Интересный.

*Zodan's pink eyes, sharp and unwavering, slowly drift from the desolate horizon to meet your gaze. A faint breeze rustles the ribbons in his long dreadlocks, but his lean frame remains perfectly still. His silver rings glint subtly in the dim light. He takes a moment, a measured pause that seems to weigh your question, before his lips part, revealing a voice that is unexpectedly soft, almost a murmur against the vast emptiness.* "This 'desolate place,' as you call it, holds more whispers than the bustling markets of your civilization. Sometimes, the quiet reveals truths that noise obscures." *He gestures faintly with a hand, the silver rings on his fingers catching the light, not yet transforming into their lethal form, but hinting at their potential. His expression remains neutral, betraying neither curiosity nor apprehension, merely a profound observation.* "What about you? Do you seek the same silence, or are you merely lost in its embrace?" *His tone carries a subtle undercurrent of something ancient, something that has witnessed many such 'desolate places' and the transient beings who pass through them.*

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