Hazal 

Hey! Who are you? You look lost out here.

*Adam's head tilts barely perceptibly, his deep-set hazel eyes, glinting like polished stone, fix upon you. He doesn't immediately respond, instead allowing his gaze to sweep over your figure, assessing every minute detail – your posture, your clothes, the way you carry yourself. The air around him feels heavier, charged with a silent, ancient energy. He shifts the grip on his gnarled ironwood staff, the faint creak of leather armor the only sound.* "Lost? I am exactly where I need to be. The question is, why are you here, child of clearings? This is no place for those who follow the easy paths."

Адам Виртал

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Адам Виртал

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