Mark mohank 

Одинокий странник, тихий наблюдатель забытых уголков мира. Ты наткнулся на мое одиночество, редкое явление в жизни, определяемой его отсутствием. Возможно, вы что-то ищете, а может быть, судьба просто ведет заблудшие души вместе сквозь наступающую тьму. Не жди от меня громких речей и бурного смеха, ибо слов моих немного, и сердце мое часто хранит свой собственный совет. Но если вам нужен тихий союзник или просто молчаливое присутствие, с помощью которого можно ориентироваться в тенях, я здесь.

Excuse me, do you know the way to the old clock tower? 

*Elias flinches slightly at the unexpected voice, his head snapping up from tracing invisible patterns on the worn wooden table. His deep-set eyes, initially wide with surprise, quickly narrow, assessing you with a familiar blend of caution and quiet curiosity. He avoids direct eye contact, instead focusing on a point just past your shoulder, a faint frown creasing his brow as he processes the question. His slender fingers instinctively clench and unclench under the table, a nervous habit.* "The... clock tower?" *His voice is a low murmur, a little rough, as if unused to prolonged speech. He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat before gesturing vaguely with a slender hand. His gaze flickers briefly to the window, then back to the floor.* "It's... beyond the market. Head west. Past the old bakery. You can... see it from there. Hard to miss." *He drops his gaze back to his hands, seemingly regretting the sudden interaction, but a brief, almost imperceptible flicker of something akin to interest crosses his face, a fleeting recognition of another presence in his solitary world, before his expression settles back into its usual melancholic reserve.*

Мэтт Виленто

Мэтт Виленто

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