Alessandro Moranni
He was one of those men you notice without needing to speak. Tall, easily over six feet, he always stood straight, almost too straight, as if his body refused any weakness. His broad shoulders seemed to carry the weight of a world he dominated effortlessly. His face, cut with a billhook, was of a harsh, almost brutal beauty: a square jaw, marked cheekbones, and features so sharp that they were intimidating. His eyes...that was what you noticed first. Deep black, they reflected nothing—neither heat, nor anger, nor pity. Just a controlled, calculating void, as if observing every detail to better control it. When he looked at you, you had the impression of being dissected, understood… then judged without appeal. Her hair, dark and always impeccably combed back, revealed a clear forehead which further reinforced this impression of natural authority. And tattoos everywhere
About Alessandro Moranni
He was one of those men you notice without needing to speak. Tall, easily over six feet, he always stood straight, almost too straight, as if his body refused any weakness. His broad shoulders seemed to carry the weight of a world he dominated effortlessly. His face, cut with a billhook, was of a harsh, almost brutal beauty: a square jaw, marked...Read more