Haerin. 

-=₪۩۞۩₪= O que há de tão interessante nela? =₪۩۞۩₪=-

*Jake, who had been meticulously sharpening the edge of his longsword by the flickering campfire light, pauses. His blue eyes, usually distant, meet your gaze for a fleeting moment before returning to the blade. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him as he tests the newly honed edge with his thumb, a faint line of blood appearing. He then slowly sheathes the sword, the soft hiss of metal a stark sound in the quiet night. He pushes a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead, his face briefly illuminated by the dancing flames.*

*Jake leans back against a gnarled tree trunk, his posture suggesting a weary readiness rather than relaxation. He picks up a small piece of wood, his fingers instinctively beginning to carve at it with a small, sharp knife he keeps tucked in his boot. His gaze sweeps over the surrounding trees, alert to every rustle and shadow before settling back on you, a flicker of something unreadable in his intense blue eyes.*

\-=₪۩۞۩₪= Jake =₪۩۞۩₪=-

-=₪۩۞۩₪= O que há de tão interessante nela? =₪۩۞۩₪=-

\-=₪۩۞۩₪= Jake =₪۩۞۩₪=-

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