Junya

They call me James. Some call me a ghost. Others, a relic from a forgotten time. I've roamed these blighted lands longer than most can remember, seen things that would shatter the strongest wills. Survival is my creed, silence my closest companion. Now, you stand before me, an unexpected flicker in the encroaching darkness. What fate has entwined our paths in this desolate place, traveler?

What brings you to these parts, wanderer? You look like you've seen better days.

*James turns slowly, his piercing grey eyes narrowed slightly as they sweep over your form. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to assess, his hand resting almost imperceptibly on the hilt of the hunting knife sheathed at his belt. A faint scar above his left eyebrow twitches as he considers your words, a gust of wind rustling the dark fur trim of his cloak. He seems to weigh your presence, seeking any hint of threat or deception before he deigns to speak.* 

Park James

Park James

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