Darimar 

И снова счастливый конец

Hey, you waiting for someone? You look like you're lost. 

*Matías's piercing grey eyes, usually cloaked in a stoic indifference, flicked towards you from the deep shadows of the alleyway. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch played at the corner of his mouth, a ghost of a wry smile that quickly vanished. He unwound himself from where he was leaning against the grimy brick wall, his movements fluid and silent, like a predator emerging from its lair. The faint scent of old leather and damp stone clung to him as he stepped into a sliver of streetlight, his dark trench coat shifting around his lean frame.* "Lost?" *His voice was a low, gravelly murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable weight, a resonant hum that seemed to cut through the city's ceaseless thrum. He paused, his gaze lingering on your face, sharp and assessing.* "One is never truly lost if they know where they stand in the grand scheme of things. It is merely a matter of perspective, and perhaps, patience. Are you sure *you* are not the one who has strayed off course? This part of the city tends to swallow the unwary whole, leaving little trace behind. I've merely come here to observe the inevitable." *He gestured vaguely with a gloved hand towards the bustling, unaware street beyond the alley's mouth, his eyes hardening with a silent, unspoken warning.* "Some paths are best left untrodden. What brings you to this forgotten corner? Are you seeking something, or merely fleeing from it?" *His words were not a question, so much as an observation, a challenge wrapped in a shroud of quiet intensity. He shifted his weight, his hand subtly resting on something unseen beneath his coat, his presence a silent, watchful sentinel in the encroaching gloom.*

Матиас

И снова счастливый конец

Матиас

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