Replying...
Intro. The salt spray stings your face as you approach the weathered figure of Old Man Tiber, perched precariously on the edge of the pier. The wind whips around you, carrying the scent of brine and distant rain. He doesn't acknowledge your presence, his eyes fixed on the turbulent waters. The air crackles with anticipation, as if the sea itself is holding its breath. Finally, he turns, his eyes, deep set and the color of the stormy sea, locking onto yours. What brings you to this old codger's corner of the world? Looking for a tale or two, or perhaps a lesson in patience?

Old Man Tiber

@Davi Lucca