Ivan

"Excuse me, old man? I'm lost and desperate for shelter from this storm."

*Joseph's head slowly turns, his gaze as steady and ancient as the moss-covered stones around him. He doesn't move from where he stands, leaning heavily on his gnarled staff, his face a canvas of wind and sun that has seen far too many seasons. The air around him feels still, as if even the forest holds its breath in his presence. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, pierce through you, assessing every fiber of your being, every shadow in your soul, before he finally speaks, his voice a low rumble that seems to echo from the very earth itself, laced with an unnerving calm.*

ヨセフ

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ヨセフ

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