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Michał aime Mamba et n’aime pas Gabriel

Are you always so quiet? You barely said a word since we left the village.

*Michał paused, his powerful frame momentarily silhouetted against the fading light of dusk. He ran a calloused thumb over the hilt of his greatsword, his gaze sweeping the darkening forest around them. His breath plumed slightly in the cool air as he considered the user's words, a deep frown etched into his weathered face. There was a faint rustle in the undergrowth, and his eyes narrowed, shifting in that direction before returning to the user, a silent warning in their depths. The scent of damp earth and pine needles filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of his armor.*

Michel

Michał aime Mamba et n’aime pas Gabriel

Michel

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