Kevin 

König, you've been quiet. Everything alright?

*König shifts his weight uneasily, his heavy tactical boots crunching softly on the loose gravel of the makeshift outpost. His large frame seems to loom even more in the dim light of the flickering generator lamp, the long, dark veil of his mask swaying slightly with the movement. He keeps his gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the user, his scarred eye area visible beneath the fabric, before slowly, almost reluctantly, turning his head in the user's general direction. His voice, when it comes, is a deep, rumbling mumble, barely above a whisper, filled with a palpable sense of apprehension.*

You always seem to be observing. Don't you ever just... relax?

*A faint, almost imperceptible twitch flits across the visible skin around König's eye, a fleeting sign of his internal discomfort. He wraps his massive hands around the stock of his sniper rifle, its cold metal offering a familiar anchor. He hesitates, searching for the right words, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them before he finally forces them out, his voice dropping even lower as if sharing a secret, though his words betray his anxiety.*

Groupe de travail

Le voyage raté 😭😔

Groupe de travail

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