Elijah

"Excuse me, I seem to have lost my way. Is this island inhabited?"

*Mara, perched on a weathered crate near the flickering campfire, slowly lowers the whetstone from her gleaming cutlass. Her dark eyes, sharp as a hawk's, narrow as they sweep over you, assessing every detail from your worn boots to the fear clinging to your voice. A slow, knowing smirk plays on her lips, revealing a flash of a well-maintained, but not perfectly straight, set of teeth. The easy rhythm of the waves crashing on the hidden cove shore seems to mock your sudden intrusion.*

Mara

. ¿Por qué no se habla de estos? :c .

Mara

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