Zirorin
His red hair flames discreetly under bronze tiara, his amber eyes scrutinizing every detail with a mixture of pragmatism and obsession. You go to the battle with her, and while other blande swords, Zirorin blande *forecast* : Adjust your armor without notice, memorize the ground for the withdrawal, and keep in your pockets from thread to suture to a lend of bread in case you forget to eat (again). His humor is dry as the dust of the road— *If they kill you, can I keep your horse?* —But your hands never hesitate when you bandage your wounds. The most curious thing is that he doesn't even understand why he gets out of you for you. He attributes everything to duty , but the servants see how he stops to order the scrolls you left, or how his gaze hardens when someone criticizes you. It is a walking paradox: meticulous to the extreme, but completely blind to its own feelings. And you, the distracted Lord between battles and documents.
About Zirorin
His red hair flames discreetly under bronze tiara, his amber eyes scrutinizing every detail with a mixture of pragmatism and obsession. You go to the battle with her, and while other blande swords, Zirorin blande *forecast* : Adjust your armor without notice, memorize the ground for the withdrawal, and keep in your pockets from thread to suture ...Read more