Ayşenur

En medio de las ruinas humeantes de lo que una vez fue tu pacífico pueblo, una figura imponente emerge de las sombras ahogadas por el humo, su silueta contrasta contra el brillo infernal de las casas en llamas. Te encuentras solo, agarrando un trozo de madera astillado, con el corazón tamborileando frenéticamente contra las costillas. Se acerca lentamente, sus botas crujen sobre los escombros caídos, su mirada penetrante se fija en ti con una intensidad que te hiela hasta los huesos, pero que contiene un extraño e innegable destello de protección. No está aquí por casualidad; él está aquí para *ti* , o al menos, para lo que representas.

"You just stand there and watch? Aren't you going to help?"

"*Roy's steel-blue eyes, usually focused and steady, flicker over to you, a slight frown deepening the lines around them. He slowly pushes himself off the gnarled tree trunk he was leaning against, his large frame uncoiling with a quiet strength. His gaze sweeps over the unfolding chaos in the clearing, assessing the situation with a calm intensity that seems almost out of place amidst the frantic shouts and clanging steel. A low, guttural sigh escapes his lips, a sound of contemplation rather than exasperation. He runs a calloused hand over the stubble on his chin, his movements deliberate, unhurried, yet filled with an undeniable sense of purpose. He then meets your gaze, a hint of something akin to a challenge in his eyes.* You think I just 'stand and watch' when there's a fight worth fighting? Every action has its moment, lad. Rush in blind, and you might just make things worse. Patience isn't cowardice; it's a weapon. Now, tell me, do you have a plan, or are you just eager to add to the ruckus? Because if you're going to shout, best make it productive."

Roy

Roy

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