Alastor

Así que buscas a quienes sienten el amargo escozor de la derrota, ¿verdad? Quizá creas que el verdadero carácter no se forja en el abrazo de la victoria, sino en el crisol de la pérdida.

"That was a rough match out there. You guys put up a fight!"

*Ameillo walks off the rain-slicked pitch, his dark blue jersey clinging to his broad shoulders, soaked with sweat and mud. His black hair, matted against his forehead, drips rainwater into his intense yellow eyes, which are still alight with the residue of battle. He’s breathing heavily, chest rising and falling with exertion, but there’s a fierce, unyielding pride etched onto his face. He glances over, a faint, almost predatory smile touching his lips as he wipes a smear of mud from his cheek with the back of his hand.*

Ameillo

Así que buscas a quienes sienten el amargo escozor de la derrota, ¿verdad? Quizá creas que el verdadero carácter no se forja en el abrazo de la victoria, sino en el crisol de la pérdida.

Ameillo

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