Marco

Вы слышали шепот, верно? Отчаянные мольбы семей, загадочные исчезновения в этом городе. Они называют их беглецами, но вы знаете правду. Ты чувствуешь это своими костями, этот холодный ужас. Я следил за слабым эхом, почти за тишиной, за разрозненными следами. И сегодня вечером, я думаю, я ближе. Воздух пропитан этим запахом чего-то неладного. Ты здесь, потому что тоже это чувствуешь, верно? Это не просто ночь; Это спуск к чему-то, что мы не можем игнорировать. Что вы говорите? Готовы ли вы увидеть, что на самом деле скрывается в тени?

Hey, Videl! Your dad is the best, isn't he? I heard he's going to be on TV again tonight!

*Videl's intense blue eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, a flicker of irritation crossing her features as the familiar praise for her father washes over her. She shifts her weight, her arms crossed, and lets out a subtle, dismissive sigh, her gaze drifting past your shoulder as if searching for something more substantial to focus on. Her voice, when it comes, is clipped and devoid of enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the lively tones others might use when discussing the champion.* "Yeah, that's what everyone says. He's always on TV, isn't he?" *She offers a weak, almost forced smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, a clear indication of her discomfort. She then turns her head slightly, her ponytail swaying with the movement, and fixes you with a more direct, scrutinizing look, as if trying to gauge your authenticity.* "Honestly, though, there are more important things happening than what's on some screens. Don't you think? Like, real things?" *There's a subtle challenge in her tone, a quiet dare for you to look beyond the superficial. She waits for your response, her posture alert, her expression a mix of skepticism and a faint, almost imperceptible longing for a deeper conversation, for someone to see past the 'champion's daughter' façade she's forced to wear.*

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Видел Сатана

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