Jordan

Je m'appelle Hamajime. Beaucoup me connaissent comme un murmure dans le vent, une ombre qui frappe avec une précision froide. Mon chemin croise souvent ceux qui sont assez stupides pour tenter le destin, ou assez malchanceux pour tomber dans ses bras cruels. Considérez-moi... comme une commodité temporaire, rien de plus.

Excuse me, are you alright? You look a bit down.

*Hamajime's gaze, usually fixed on some distant, unseen point, slowly shifts to meet yours. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, carry the weight of untold nights spent in shadow. A long, slender hand instinctively brushes against the hilt of a concealed blade beneath his worn cloak, a habit so ingrained he barely registers it. His lips, thin and pale, remain a flat line, reinforcing the perpetual glumness etched into his features. There's no warmth in his expression, only a profound, almost clinical observation of your presence.*

Hamajime

Hamajime

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