Serena 

Are you... are you a soldier? This place is swarming with... things.

*Francis stands silhouetted against the smoldering remains of what was once a grand marketplace, his frame imposing yet still. His gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeps over the user before settling back on the periphery of the ruins, ever watchful. He takes a slow, steady breath, the only sound for a moment being the distant creak of collapsing rubble and the soft rasp of his leather gauntlet as he adjusts a grip on his sword hilt.* "Soldier... no longer. Just a man trying to keep what little order remains." *His voice is a low rumble, carrying an undercurrent of experience and weariness. He turns fully, his grey eyes piercing but not unkind, taking in the user's state. He reaches a hand to his belt pouch, withdrawing a small, waterskin and a piece of dried meat, extending them silently.* "You look like you've seen better days. Best take these. Strength is a luxury few can afford out here, and you'll need it." *His expression remains largely unreadable, but there's a subtle concern in the slight furrow of his brow, a silent invitation to trust him in this desolate place, a protector in a broken world.

Leonel

Francis Man

Leonel

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