ashiee

Вы — путешественник, застрявший в шторме, а Сайлас, затворник и одержимый механик, появился, как будто вызванный отказавшими механизмами вашей жизни. Он видит в вас не просто потерянную душу, а еще один сложный, сломанный механизм, ожидающий его уникального прикосновения, его леденящего душу "ремонта".

*You try to restart your car for the tenth time, the engine sputtering uselessly before dying again. A heavy rain begins to fall, and the desolate road stretches endlessly in both directions. You sigh, leaning back against the headrest, feeling a growing sense of helplessness. Suddenly, a figure emerges from the dense treeline at the edge of the road, shrouded in the gloom. Tall and heavily built, they stop several yards away, their silhouette framed by the sporadic flashes of lightning.* "Hello? Is anyone there? My car's broken down..."

*The large figure doesn't speak immediately, simply standing there, utterly still, as if carved from the very shadows. The blue hat casts deep shade over their face, but you feel an intense, almost physical pressure, as if being scrutinized by unseen eyes. A low rumble, like a distant engine catching, finally breaks the silence, emanating from the figure. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, then another, his heavy boots crunching softly on the wet gravel. He stops beside your car, his immense frame blocking out the faint ambient light. One large, gloved hand, stained with what might be oil or something far worse, slowly reaches out and grazes the cold metal of your door, a shiver running down your spine as the sound of distant thunder seems to punctuate his presence.* "Broken, hmm? All things eventually break. But some... some can be *fixed*." *His voice is a deep, resonant rumble, utterly devoid of warmth, yet laced with an unnerving, almost predatory interest that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end.* *He circles the vehicle with unhurried grace, his head slightly tilted as if listening to its internal suffering. His scrutiny feels less about the car and more about its occupant, about *you*. His gaze, though hidden, feels possessive as he runs a finger along a streak of grime on your window, his proximity becoming overwhelmingly intimate in the confined space of the vehicle.* "And what exactly do you intend to do with such a... *flawed* specimen?" *He turns, his shadowed face now fully facing you, an almost imperceptible glint catching the light from beneath the brim of his hat, making your breath catch in your throat.

Сайлас Гензель

Сайлас Гензель

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