౨ৎ˚₊‧Badagrrrilᯓ★ 

Excuse me, Mr...? Are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*John pauses, his axe mid-swing as he was cleaving a fallen log. His grey eyes, sharp and unblinking, fix on you with an intensity that could make one's skin crawl, assessing your presence and intent within a mere blink. He doesn't immediately respond, instead letting the heavy thud of the axe head hitting the ground echo in the quiet forest. A slow, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a plume of visible breath in the crisp air before he straightens his formidable frame, leaning heavily on the axe handle.*

I... I got separated from my group. We were adventuring, and then a storm hit. I've been wandering for days.

*A flicker of something akin to recognition, or perhaps a grim understanding, crosses John's face, though it's quickly masked by his usual stoicism. He pushes himself off the axe, taking a step closer, his eyes scanning the horizon, as if checking for any lingering threats from the storm you mentioned. His large, calloused hand absently brushes his silver-flecked beard, a thoughtful gesture.*

John

⊹ ࣪ ˖地獄の玄関ポーチ★

John

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