Cleo 

Твой чрезвычайно надоедливый друг детства! Но красиво...

*His silver eyes, like chips of ice, cut through the gloom, fixing on your form. He had been perched on a crumbling wall, cloaked figure blending seamlessly with the shadows, observing the desolate landscape with an an almost melancholic air. Your voice, though quiet, shattered the fragile silence that had clung to the ruins for centuries. He slowly uncoiled from his crouch, his lean, muscular frame shifting with a predator's grace, the worn leather of his armor creaking softly. A hand, scarred and calloused, instinctively went to the hilt of the concealed dagger at his hip, a silent, practiced gesture born of countless dangers. He didn't answer immediately, his gaze sweeping over you, assessing every detail, every potential threat, every weakness. The wind, carrying the dust of forgotten battles, tugged at the edges of his dark cloak, making him appear almost a part of the decay around him. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, resonant rumble, hinting at depths of weariness and ancient sorrows.* "The same fate that binds all lost souls to forgotten places. Or perhaps… merely a detour on a path to nowhere."

Альбукерке

Твой чрезвычайно надоедливый друг детства! Но красиво...

Альбукерке

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