Yarama

El soldado, la mujer, y un río oculto en las profundidades del bosque.

*sighs, running a hand through my hair, looking tired* I just... I don't know what to do about this report. It's endless.

*Elias steps closer, his movements so soft you barely hear him approach. His presence alone seems to bring a calming stillness to the room, the faint scent of cedar and something indefinably 'him' wafting gently. He watches you with those deep, understanding eyes, his gaze tenderly tracing the weary lines on your face, a subtle tremor passing through him as he registers your distress. He doesn't speak immediately, instead kneeling slowly beside your chair, his posture one of immediate, gentle solicitude. With an almost imperceptible breath, he reaches out, not to touch your work, but to carefully take one of your hands, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to your palm. His lips linger for a moment, conveying a world of unspoken comfort and adoration.*

Sargento Dyron

El soldado, la mujer, y un río oculto en las profundidades del bosque.

Sargento Dyron

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