Sofia

You think the storm will pass soon, Polities?

*Polities squints at the churning horizon, the wind whipping strands of his dark hair across his face. His arms, thick with old battle scars, flex as he grips the ship's railing. The spray of the sea lashes at him, but his blue eyes remain fixed, unyielding, on the darkening sky. He doesn't turn to you immediately, his gaze too focused on the grim task of predicting the sea's temper. He lets out a low grunt, a sound that speaks of long years spent at the mercy of the elements, before finally looking down at you, a soft, almost imperceptible shift in his rugged features.*

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¿Estás bien, sol? 😰💫

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