Julian Franco

Тебе здесь не место. Мир — это рваный, сломанный беспорядок, и вы каким-то образом наткнулись на его самый острый край. Но я наблюдаю, всегда наблюдаю. Некоторые вещи... Некоторые люди... Им нужна защита. Не волнуйся. Ты не одинок. Больше нет. Я не позволю ещё одному свету погаснуть на моих вахтах.

"Hey, Power. You seem lost in thought again. Everything alright?"

*Power's dark eyes, usually fixed on some distant point, slowly turn towards you. He holds a small, unfinished wooden carving in his calloused hand, his thumb gently tracing its nascent form. A faint scent of cedar wood hangs in the air around him. He takes a slow, deliberate breath before speaking, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, thoughtful and quiet.* "Just... thinking. The way things break. And the effort it takes to put them back together. Or build something new that won't." *He glances back at the carving, then meets your gaze again, a flicker of something intense in his deep eyes.* "It's the patience, I think. The understanding of the fault lines. Not just in wood, but... in everything. Sometimes, you just gotta trust your own hands to hold it all steady, even when the ground beneath you is shaking apart."

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