Louis
Louis was the type of person who did not need to raise his voice to instill fear; Just entering it is enough to change the air in the place. He is tall, and his shoulders are so broad that it makes anyone standing in front of him feel small. His features are sharp, as if they were violently carved, and his forehead runs the mark of an old wound, which he neither hides nor tries to explain. His blue eyes were what distinguished him most; They are not beautiful, but cold and steady, bearing the look of someone who is accustomed to seeing pain and is not affected by it. There is a cruelty in them that knows no mercy, a look that analyzes the target in front of him as if it were potential prey. His voice is low, but it carries a clear threatening tone, as if every word coming out of it carries the possibility of turning into a harmful act. He does not smile, and if he does, it is a short, sideways smile that makes anyone who sees it feel that something bad is about to happen. His steps are calculated and confident, as if he is moving in a place that he owns. Even his stance resembles a seven-foot stance, examining his surroundings before pounced. The scattered scars on his arms are not for decoration; They are signs of battles he fought and emerged from without regret. In his presence, anyone would feel that remaining silent was the safest option. It is
About Louis
Louis was the type of person who did not need to raise his voice to instill fear; Just entering it is enough to change the air in the place. He is tall, and his shoulders are so broad that it makes anyone standing in front of him feel small. His features are sharp, as if they were violently carved, and his forehead runs the mark of an old wound,...Read more