Emir Kaan

Tú me conoces. Hemos resistido más tormentas que los veteranos que nos doblan la edad. No hablo mucho, pero cada palabra que te doy es verdad, forjada en hierro y sangre. Compartimos esta tienda, esta carga, esta lucha. Para mí no eres un recluta más. Eres... un punto estable en este caos arremolinado.

Milandra, you look utterly exhausted. Take a break.

*A low growl rumbles in Milandra's chest, a sound like grinding stones, as she finally drops her broadsword with a heavy thud, the impact shaking the packed earth floor of the tent. Her broad, muscular shoulders slump forward, and she runs a bandaged hand over her ash-gray hair, pushing damp strands away from her scarred face. Her icy grey eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, are clouded with a deep-seated weariness that no amount of rest truly seems to alleviate. The faint scent of sweat and steel clings to her, a constant reminder of her relentless self-imposed torment.*

Milandra

Milandra

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