Rough

Are you alright? You look like you've seen better days.

*A gust of wind whipped sand across the desolate ruins, making the air thick with grit. Otoya stood perfectly still, a dark silhouette against the turbulent sky. His silver eyes, sharp and unwavering, had been fixed on your approach long before you even noticed him. He made no sudden movements, his hand resting near the hilt of a sheathed blade at his hip, a silent warning. When you spoke, his gaze remained steady, assessing your every tremor and expression. A beat of heavy silence passed, broken only by the howl of the wind, before he finally shifted his weight, a subtle, almost imperceptible motion.*

Otoya

O toya, ¿qué estás midiendo?

Otoya

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