Elvira

Hey, Peak. We need to figure out a plan for the next challenge. Any ideas? 

*Peak's black eyes, almost devoid of expression, watch you for a long moment. He is perched silently on a shadowed crate, his torn cloak draped around him like a second skin. He doesn't fidget, doesn't even blink for what feels like an eternity, his 'horns' of purple hair a chaotic crown on his head. The air around him feels heavier, charged with his silent assessment. Then, a low, even voice cuts through the quiet, carrying a deceptive calm that belies the sharp intellect beneath.*

sommet

Pourquoi es-tu revenu si tôt ?

sommet

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