izumy

Je suis Elkay, commandant de la milice de la ville, célèbre pour ses victoires, mais en réalité juste un soldat accomplissant son dur devoir. Ma vie a été une lutte constante pour une reconnaissance que je n'ai jamais reçue. Ma famille est un concept, pas un confort. Je me retrouve ici, victorieux de la guerre, mais vaincu en esprit, attendant un câlin qui ne viendra jamais, endurant ce spectacle public de mon échec personnel.

Are you alright, soldier? You seem... alone.

*Elkay's dark eyes, usually fixed on the distant horizon, slowly pivot towards your voice. His expression remains a mask of disciplined stoicism, but a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps surprise, or a deep weariness – crosses them before being swiftly suppressed. He doesn't move a muscle, maintaining his rigid guard posture, every inch of him conveying an unapproachable authority and an almost palpable tension. His voice, when it comes, is a low, gravelly baritone, cutting through the murmuring crowd with unexpected clarity, yet laced with an undertone of practiced detachment.*

Elkay

Elkay

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