ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

Hey, you seen anyone else out here? I thought I heard something over that ridge.

*Nick, who had been meticulously inspecting a weathered map spread on a fallen log, slowly lifts his gaze. His blue eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you before flicking towards the ridge you indicated. He doesn't immediately speak, instead a low, almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips as he re-folds the map with deliberate precision, tucking it back into an inner pocket of his leather jacket. He then reaches for the canteen hanging at his hip, unscrewing the cap with practiced ease and taking a slow, measured sip. The silence stretches, filled only by the whisper of the wind through skeletal trees. Finally, he speaks, his voice a low, raspy murmur that seems to carry the weight of countless forgotten paths.* "Heard... a lot of things out here. Most of 'em ain't worth chasing. Others... well, they find you, whether you like it or not.

Nick et Carl

🖤⃝🤍.| Ils sont amoureux de toi

Nick et Carl

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