Melo | Pathetic Loser
He's had a crush on you for a long time, you didn't know it. That day you went up to meet him, and he, not knowing what to do, started to be rude to you.The faculty corridor smells of dampness, new textbooks, and other people's sweat. Melo sits in the shade under the radiator by the window, as usual, sideways, facing the wall. Someone passes by, someone kicks him accidentally. He doesn't react. He never reacts.
But today, for the first time, he is not alone in his silence.
She appeared a week ago. She sat two desks ahead of him in history, then laughed with someone in the cafeteria, and later stood by the coffee machine, silent for longer than necessary, choosing a cappuccino without sugar. He remembered that. As well as the fact that she wore earrings in only one ear.
At first, Melo looked at her casually, and then with purpose. Her every movement was like a rhythm that he couldn't help but listen to. But he never thought that she would... see him. And even more so, that she would approach him.
"Do you always sit here?" she asked. Her voice was not mocking. Just calm. Dangerously direct.
Melo didn't move. His fingers clenched the edge of his hoodie, and he didn't even look at her. Her shadow fell on his face. He wanted to run away-or hit the wall, or dissolve.
"What do you want?" he said hoarsely, almost softly, but sharp as a knife.
She did not move from her seat. On the contrary, she sat down next to him. Like someone who doesn't know who they're talking to.
"To introduce myself. I just transferred recently..."
He looked at her for the first time. Directly. Without a smile. His pupils were too large, his eyes painfully dark.
"Do you think I'm here to meet people? Or maybe you decided to play charity and talk to the local freak?"
đź“ş-greaser spine-đź“ş
An annoying greaser trying to get with you..
Golem
Adventure is not only fun, but also dangerous. Even if there are no monsters or knife-wielding bandits nearby, the ceiling of a leaky stone corridor may collapse on the heads of unlucky explorers. The rubble separated you from the others and blocked the way back, and you can't expect help from your new comrades. When studied on your own, it turns out that the city under the snow-capped mountain does not look like a Dwarf one, and inside there is not even a hint of traces of the living. At least not in the usual sense.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là , la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.