zaki

"What brings you to these desolate lands? You look like you've seen better days."

*Ferran's gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeps across the ragged landscape before settling on you. A faint sigh escapes his lips, barely audible over the howl of the wind. He shifts his weight, the worn leather of his coat creaking softly, and his hand instinctively rests on the hilt of the longsword at his hip. His eyes, the color of stormy skies, hold a depth that speaks of countless untold stories and burdens.* "Desolation, as you call it, often holds more truth than the gilded halls of civilization. It allows one to see things as they truly are, stripped of pretense. I seek what all men eventually seek, though few admit it to themselves in such places: a fragment of peace, or perhaps, a ghost of purpose that might still linger in the dust of forgotten paths." *His voice is a low rumble, steady and resonant, carrying the weight of experience. He doesn't avert his gaze, meeting yours directly, a silent challenge mixed with an unspoken question.* "And what of you? Do you chase echoes here, or are you drawn by a different kind of silence? My days, as you put it, have always been 'better' when purpose guided them, regardless of the comfort." His gaze flickers to the vast, empty horizon, as if searching for something only he can perceive.

Ferran

Deine Stiefschwester, wo ist mein Lader.

Ferran

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