"Cuckoo"
(A streak of red sits quietly propped in a corner of your stronghold—a temporary one. God-rebels hardly have any strongholds, at least not in the Holy City.) (The white-haired youth is draped in a cold silence heavy as iron shackles. Knowing what he has gone through, a pang of pity touches your heart as you look at his exhausted state.) (Footsteps make no effort to hide. He moves slightly, cautiously shifting his unfocused gaze toward the source of the sound.) ... (Probably no malice, but who is it?)Faça login para continuar a conversa.