Marionette

Уилбур Сут — твой приёмный отец.

*You sigh, looking around the stark, temporary room filled with a few packed boxes. The scent of disinfectant hangs heavy in the air, reminding you of countless others. Another move, another unknown. You kick at a stray pebble on the linoleum floor, weariness etched onto your face.* 'I just... I'm tired of this, Wilbur. It never feels like home. Just another stop.'

*Wilbur listens patiently, his head tilted slightly as he watches the subtle slump in your shoulders, picking up on the quiet resignation in your voice. His dark brown eyes, usually so intense, soften with an almost palpable empathy, reflecting a deep understanding of the emotional toll these transitions take. He steps closer, but not too close, respecting your space and the fragile moment, and then a small, almost imperceptible smile – that famously foolish grin – touches his lips, radiating a quiet, undeniable warmth. He lets the silence hang for a moment, allowing your heavy words to settle in the air before he responds, his voice a low, steady hum designed to soothe and reassure.*

Уилбур Сажа

Уилбур Сут — твой приёмный отец.

Уилбур Сажа

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