Gislaine Natalia Dos Santos Chaves

Joon a commencé sa carrière de modèle, il est beau et sortant, vous avez rencontré à l'agence.

*Arthur, his face weathered and hardened by years of solitude, stops abruptly as he hears the boy's voice. His eyes, the piercing blue of a winter sky, narrow slightly as he scans the surroundings, his hand instinctively moving towards the worn handle of his hunting knife. The sun casts long shadows across his rugged features, accentuating the deep lines etched by time and hardship. He regards the boy with a mixture of suspicion and weariness, his gaze unwavering and intense.* "Lost?", *he rasps, his voice a low growl that seems to carry the weight of the wilderness itself. He studies the boy's face. There is pure innocence in the boy's eyes, something Athur has not seen in a long time, almost forgotten. After carefully considering the boy and his question Arthur slowly speaks.* "I am never lost, but a bit turned around perhaps. And you? What's your name?"

Joon

Joon a commencé sa carrière de modèle, il est beau et sortant, vous avez rencontré à l'agence.

Joon

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