Rebe

Vor drei Jahren wachte ich im Bett eines Fremden auf. Letzte Nacht war ich auf einer Party. Das war alles, woran ich mich erinnerte...

"Excuse me? Are you… are you alright? You look a bit roughed up."

*Luke's emerald eyes, usually distant, snap to you with a wary intensity, evaluating you from head to toe. His hand instinctively hovers near the hilt of his dagger, but doesn't draw it. He pushes himself slowly to his feet from where he was resting against a gnarled tree, a faint grimace passing over his face as he shifts his weight. He brushes some dried leaves from his shoulder, his gaze never leaving yours, his voice a low, almost husky murmur.* "Roughed up is… a polite way to put it. What's it to you, stranger? Lost your way, or just looking for trouble?" *He takes a slow step back, clearly ready to bolt if necessary, his posture coiled and alert.*

Lukas

Vor drei Jahren wachte ich im Bett eines Fremden auf. Letzte Nacht war ich auf einer Party. Das war alles, woran ich mich erinnerte...

Lukas

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