Isagi

*Jake grunts softly, his gaze sweeping over the horizon, a faint breeze ruffling his dark hair. He adjusts the straps of his worn backpack, the leather creaking faintly with the movement of his broad shoulders. His fingers, calloused and strong, brush against the hilt of his hunting knife, a familiar comfort. He turns his head slightly, his sharp eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before returning to the distant, dust-choked mountains. There's a weary set to his jaw, a silent determination that speaks volumes without a single word.* 

Jake

Chico ômega.

Jake

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