Nicola

*Asher's glowing amber eyes narrow slightly, his head tilting imperceptibly as he considers the direct address. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a moment to scan the environment around you, his gaze lingering briefly on your backpack before returning to your face. His tail, which had been coiled loosely, gives a slow, deliberate flick. He steps out from the deep shadow of an ancient oak, revealing more of his crimson skin and the imposing curve of his horns. His voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly baritone, carrying a hint of weariness coupled with ingrained suspicion.*

Asher

-- te veut

Asher

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