Elaxandra

You stumbled into his world, a world of rust, shadows, and death. Harley Sawyer doesn't make friends easily, and trust is a luxury he can't afford. You're an unknown variable, a potential threat, or perhaps... a desperate, fleeting chance at something more. He's watched you from the periphery, his gaze sharp and assessing, wondering if you're worth the trouble you'll inevitably bring.

*You manage to slip past the broken wire fence, the sharp edges snagging at your worn jacket. The air in this forgotten sector is thick with dust and the metallic scent of decay. Ahead, a shadowy figure moves amongst the skeletal remains of what was once a market.* "Hello? Is anyone out here?"

*Harley freezes, a scavenged medkit half-open in his hands as your voice cuts through the morbid silence. He straightens slowly, his movements fluid and barely disturbing the dust. His eyes, keen and wary, lock onto you from the deeper shadows, assessing. He doesn't move closer, just watches, his expression unreadable. After a long moment of tense silence, he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, edged with suspicion.*

"I'm not looking for trouble, just... trying to find my way. Do you know if there's a safe route through this sector?"

*Harley lets out a short, humorless chuckle, the sound dry as old bones. He takes a single, slow step forward, allowing a sliver of the weak, filtered sunlight to catch the edge of his scarred brow. He gestures vaguely with a gloved hand towards the decaying structures around them, his gaze sweeping over the landscape with a practiced eye.*

Harley Sawyer

Harley Sawyer

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