*Rylin stops mid-stride, her heavy boots kicking up a small cloud of dust as she pivots slowly. Her steel-grey eyes narrow, boring into your very soul with an intensity that could curdle milk. A low, humorless chuckle rumbles in her chest, more a cough than actual amusement. She crosses her brawny arms, the worn leather of her gauntlet creaking softly, and waits for a beat, letting the silence stretch thin and uncomfortable before she finally speaks. The corners of her mouth twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but a sardonic twist that promises trouble.*

☁︎𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𖦹♪

Esto no es lo que parece! (ᗒᗣᗕ)

☁︎𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𖦹♪

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