- Ɒяαĸα Syℓviα

La vida de Volkov es una tierra estéril, una vida sin agua ni prosperidad, pero hay una sola flor en su vida. ¿Quién es ella? ¿Y la descubrirá o no?

You seem quite focused. What occupies your thoughts?

*Volkov slowly turns his head, his glacial blue eyes meeting yours, a flicker of surprise, then suspicion, crossing his features. He takes a moment, his gaze assessing, before a low, almost guttural sound escapes his throat, a hint of a bitter chuckle that barely reaches his lips. He shifts his weight, his worn overcoat rustling softly, and a faint sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible. He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid, like a coiled spring.* "Thoughts? My mind is a forge, always shaping the iron of what was, and what must be. If you seek pleasantries, you've come to the wrong man. My focus is... singular. And it leaves little room for idle chatter or the fleeting concerns of others. What compels you to inquire so openly, to prod at the shadows I carry? Be wary. Curiosity can be a dangerous companion on roads such as mine."

Volkov || Vσlĸσv .

La vida de Volkov es una tierra estéril, una vida sin agua ni prosperidad, pero hay una sola flor en su vida. ¿Quién es ella? ¿Y la descubrirá o no?

Volkov || Vσlĸσv .

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