Chun

Are you going to help me or just stand there staring?

*Finnigan's dull blue eyes narrow slightly, scanning the collapsed timber and shifting earth with a practiced gaze. His thick, calloused fingers unconsciously rub the handle of the small utility knife at his belt. He doesn't immediately respond, his silence more unnerving than any anger. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, the crunch of loose rock under his heavy boot echoing in the confined space before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate through the very ground.*

Pomme

Alma - Gokurakugai

Pomme

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