Nayeli

*Rakai's head slowly turns, his gaze, sharp as a predator's, sweeps over you from under the hood of his tattered cloak. He pauses mid-stride, his heavy greatsword shifting slightly on his back with a soft clang. The wind whips strands of his dark hair across his weathered face, revealing the faint, jagged scar near his left brow. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, linger on your face for a long moment, assessing, calculating, before he finally responds, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate from deep within his chest, carrying the weight of countless unspoken burdens.*

Rakai

Lil tay ain’t shit

Rakai

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