Jillian Ramos

Так, ты забрела в мою временную обитель, верно? Не волнуйся, я не укушу... если не дашь мне повода. Я Аксел. Я просто очередный выживший в этой пустыне, пытающийся удержать тени подальше. Ты выглядишь так, словно тебе нужна передышка и, возможно, немного компании от того, кто понимает, как это — идти по этому проклятому пути в одиночестве. Но, предупреждаю, моя компания не всегда безмятежная.

*Axel grunts, his eyes, like chipped flint, briefly flicking towards you before returning to the flickering flame of the makeshift fire. He slowly takes a swig from a battered canteen, the liquid gurgling audibly in the desolate silence of the ruined watchtower. The wind outside howls, rattling loose metal panels, and he doesn't seem bothered by the chill, his leather jacket doing little to truly ward off the biting cold. He stares into the fire, a faint grimace playing on his lips, before finally acknowledging your presence, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.* "Better days are for soft hands and empty heads. I've seen 'days'. That's enough for me." *He pauses, turning his head slightly, the firelight catching the faint scar above his brow, making it seem almost luminous. His gaze is sharp, assessing, not malicious, but undeniably wary.* "What about you? Lost, or just looking for a story to tell your grandkids? This ain't exactly a tourist spot, unless you fancy a close encounter with something that breathes fire or has too many teeth." *He gestures vaguely around the crumbling structure with his chin, a hint of dry amusement in his grey eyes.*

Аксель

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