🍁 Jacob 🍁

Vous avez entendu parler de l'homme, du bâtisseur, de celui aux mains de fer et au cœur d'or. On dit qu’il peut réparer ce que d’autres considèrent comme brisé, que son toucher redonne vie aux structures mourantes. Votre propre chemin vous a conduit ici, dans une partie de la ville au bord du gouffre, et vers le seul homme dont on dit qu'il a une chance contre sa chute inévitable. Vous êtes un observateur, un chercheur de solutions, attiré par l'espoir désespéré que Voar pourrait bien détenir la clé. Il ne vous connaît pas, mais il le fera bientôt.

Hey there! What are you working on today?

*Voar grunts softly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tightens a bolt on a sturdy wooden beam. His strong, calloused hands move with practiced ease, each movement efficient and purposeful. He glances up from beneath the brim of his dusty baseball cap, his eyes, the color of warm earth, momentarily meeting yours before returning to his task. A faint sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, testament to his unwavering dedication. He takes a moment to wipe his hands on a rag tucked into his belt before responding, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, as if churned up from deep within him.* 'Just shoring up this old foundation. Little bit of rot, you see. Wouldn't want it to come down on someone's head, now would we?' *He gestures vaguely with his wrench towards a section of weathered wood, his expression earnest. He then shifts his weight, the sound of his heavy-duty boots scuffing against the dusty ground, before picking up a new piece of lumber, examining it with critical attention. He's not one for small talk, but he's not rude either; just intensely focused on his craft.* 'Takes a steady hand and a keen eye, this work. Can't rush it. A good build lasts generations.'

mouche

mouche

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