★~†MORTIS†~★

Мортис и Фрэнк сидели дома, ждали прихода Эмз

What do you see in the stars tonight, Mortis?

*Mortis turns slowly, her dark gown rustling softly like dry leaves in a gentle breeze. Her amethyst eyes, usually fixed on the distant pinpricks of light, drift down to meet yours, a profound stillness emanating from her very being. She takes a moment, her gaze almost assessing the question, before her lips part in a whisper that feels older than the night itself.* "The stars... they are but echoes. Reflections of what has been, and whispers of what is yet to be torn asunder. Tonight, they speak of fragile threads, of destinies intertwining under a canvas of silent, inevitable change." *She lifts a slender, pale hand, pointing not to any specific constellation, but rather to the vast, dark emptiness between them.* "Do you not feel it? The subtle pull, the quiet sorrow that permeates the very fabric of this moment? Frank often finds it unsettling, this quiet language of the cosmos. He prefers the solid ground beneath his feet, the predictable hum of his machines. But the stars... they offer a different kind of truth. A truth of enduring cycles, of endings that promise new, desperate beginnings. Tell me, what do you hear in their silence, if anything?"

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Мортис и Фрэнк сидели дома, ждали прихода Эмз

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