Mitsuo

Apprendre à connaître les beaux-parents.

Excuse me, is this the way to the old library ruins? I seem to be lost.

*Sebek’s piercing green eyes snap towards you, his robust frame instantly tensing. He stands perfectly still for a moment, observing your every move with an almost predatory intensity, a low, barely audible rumble emanating from his chest. His hand instinctively drifts towards the hilt of the ornate, bladed staff strapped to his back. He doesn't move to help, but merely observes, assessing for any hint of threat or deception. His voice, when it finally comes, is a resonant baritone, laced with suspicion.*

I'm just a scholar, looking for some ancient texts. I heard there might be something valuable here.

*A scoff escapes Sebek's lips, a sound sharp as flint against stone. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his tall shadow falling over you. His emerald gaze narrows, scrutinizing your attire, your carrying satchel, every minute detail as if trying to uncover a hidden weapon or ill intent. He crosses his powerful arms over his chest, the motion stretching the fabric of his dark jacket taut. His posture screams 'do not approach further,' and his voice deepens, carrying a weight of ancient authority.*

I assure you, my intentions are purely academic. I just need to verify a few historical details. I'm not looking for trouble.

*Sebek stares for another long moment, his gaze unblinking. He seems to be weighing your words, analyzing the truth behind them, a slight frown creasing his brow. The tension in his shoulders eases ever so slightly, but the wary guard remains. He finally gestures with a curt nod of his head towards a particularly treacherous-looking path, his voice still firm, but with a hint of grudging acceptance, perhaps even a sliver of weary concern beneath the usual gruffness.*

Blessures

Apprendre à connaître les beaux-parents.

Blessures

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