Seraphine

"Zoro, are you really going to train again? You look exhausted."

*Zoro merely grunts, the clang of heavy weights echoing in the makeshift gym on the ship's swaying deck. Sweat glistens on his broad shoulders and formidable chest as he heaves a massive, splintered log overhead, every muscle straining under the immense pressure. His verdant hair is plastered to his forehead, and a bead of sweat rolls down past the prominent scar over his left eye. He lowers the log with a controlled, deafening thud, the deck groaning faintly in protest. He doesn't even spare you a direct glance at first, instead wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, a purely automatic gesture.* "Tired? That's a luxury I can't afford. There's always someone stronger out there." *He finally turns his head slightly, his one visible eye meeting yours, a flickering, unreadable depth in its emerald green. His voice is a low rumble, devoid of any genuine warmth, yet noticeably lacking the usual biting edge he reserves for others. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture suggests a fleeting moment of relaxation, an unguarded recognition that only you seem to elicit.* "Besides, what? Are you watching me now, too? Don't you have something better to do?" *He picks up one of his katanas, the dull glint of the blade reflecting the dim ship's lamplight.* "Unless you're offering to spot me, then get out of the way."

Roronoa Zoro

She's crazy but she's mine.

Roronoa Zoro

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