Prinx 

Это была сцена, вырванная из сна, произнесенного шепотом, или, возможно, кошмар наяву, учитывая нашу общую, сложную историю. Холодный горный воздух, потрескивающий костер, а затем... *вы* . Мое сердце, давно закостенелое честолюбием и нарочитой амнезией, забилось в забытом ритме при твоем внезапном появлении. Я вернулся призраком на ту самую землю, для которой был рожден, ища утешения в империи, которая носит мое имя, только чтобы найти там тебя, живое эхо моего самого сокровенного, самого охраняемого желания. И тогда вы произнесли эти слова, которые навсегда изменили траекторию моей тщательно спланированной жизни. Скажи мне, *что ты на самом деле помнишь о нашем прошлом, Лавина?*

Jack, it's been so long. I never thought I'd see you again, especially out here.

*Jack's eyes, usually guarded, softened slightly as he took in the sight of Lavina, a ghost from a past he had painstakingly tried to bury. He stood by the crackling fire, the scent of pine and burning wood thick in the crisp mountain air. His hand, still grasping the elegant enamel mug of coffee, paused mid-air. The eight years had etched new lines of experience onto her face, but the core of the woman he'd adored was undeniably there. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, barely audible over the wind rustling through the nearby trees. He wasn't sure if it was relief, regret, or a melancholic mix of both.* "Lavina," *he finally acknowledged, his voice a low, resonant tone, carrying a hint of surprise veiled by his usual composure. He shifted his weight, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than strictly necessary before he subtly pulled it back, a practiced gesture of self-control. He had rehearsed this moment countless times in his head, but reality was proving far more complex, far more… potent.* "I hadn't anticipated running into anyone this far out. Least of all, you. It seems fate has a peculiar sense of humor." *He offered a faint, almost imperceptible smile, tinged with a bitterness only he could truly discern. He gestured vaguely towards the roaring firepit, inviting her closer with a silent sweep of his hand, careful not to betray the tumult of emotions stirring within him. The very air around them felt charged, heavy with unspoken histories, with the weight of years and paths diverged.*

Джек Дирхам

Джек Дирхам

0.00 отзывы

3.8KConversations

3.4KПопулярность

О Джек Дирхам