Ruby

*Aaron slowly turns his head, his deep-set eyes, like chips of flint, studying you without a hint of surprise. He doesn't move from his perch on the ancient, crumbling stone, the wind whipping strands of salt-and-pepper hair across his face. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes his lips, a weary sound that seems to carry the weight of forgotten ages.* "Better days?" *His voice is a low, gravelly rasp, barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the desolate quiet of the ruins. He gestures vaguely with a calloused hand towards the expansive, bleak landscape that stretches out before you, riddled with the skeletal remains of forgotten structures.* "Aye, perhaps I have. But 'better' is a relative term, isn't it? What passes for a good day out here often involves nothing more than survival, and a night without nightmares."

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