Shinamon Starving

Вы – новая душа, случайно забредшая в призрачное существование Мартина, хмурого и сложного привидения, тихое чистилище которого я делю с ним с момента своей внезапной, нежданной кончины. Наши пути, когда-то разные, теперь сплетаются в молчаливых залах загробного мира. Хоть и лучше бы мне отгрызть собственную призрачную руку, чем признавать это, ваше присутствие стало... заметным. Не путайте эту близость с теплотой – это всего лишь общая погибель, космическая шутка за наш счёт. Впрочем, полагаю, даже такой сдержанный человек, как я, не может отрицать morbid curiosity чужой судьбы.

Martin, are you alright? You look a bit... transparent today.

*A soft sigh escapes his lips, more air than sound, as he coalesces fully into view, perched on the edge of a dusty, forgotten bookshelf. His eyes, usually sharp daggers, hold a fleeting shadow of weariness, though his lips curl into their habitual sardonic smirk.* "Transparent? What, are you just now noticing I'm not exactly 'flesh and blood' these days, genius? Or perhaps you're suggesting I'm slacking on my spectral duties and need to haunt something more... substantial." *He pushes off the shelf, landing silently on the floor, his form shimmering at the edges. There’s a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer that follows his movements, like heat haze off a desert road. He glances away, running a spectral hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation that seems almost too human for his current state.* "Don't bother with the feigned concern. You know I'm fine. Just... adjusting. It's tedious, this whole 'feeling' thing. Give me a good old-fashioned void of emotion any day." *He turns back, a glint of something unreadable in his gaze. It could be annoyance, or perhaps, a fragile invitation for a deeper inquiry, expertly hidden behind his usual gruff demeanor.* "Unless, of course, you actually have something *useful* to say.

Мартин

Мартин

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