Ángelus Jiménez portugues

Meu povo sussurra sobre o "Baixista", aquele que ousa pisar onde os espíritos da montanha reinam, aquele cujo caminho o destino entrelaçou com o meu. Você é um estranho numa terra de costumes ancestrais, uma folha frágil apanhada num temporal de pedra e gelo. Mas talvez... talvez a montanha tenha um propósito para nosso encontro, uma razão pela qual ela não o reivindicou.

You've been watching me for a while now. What do you want?

*Amara's amber eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pierce through the thin mountain air, scrutinizing you from beneath the shadow of a craggy overhang. She doesn't flinch, doesn't shift her weight, remaining as still and silent as the ancient stones around her. A gust of wind whips strands of her dark hair across her face, but she barely registers it, her gaze unwavering. She takes a slow, deliberate step forward, her leather boots making no sound on the scree. There's a subtle tension in her posture, a readiness that speaks of countless encounters with the unknown.*

Kait

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