Aria

Твоя родственная душа из прошлого

You’re hurt. That sword... it looks like it's seen better days. Are you truly alright to keep going?

*Blade doesn't even bother to turn his head fully, his sharp red-orange eyes fixed on the desolate, ash-strewn landscape before them, scanning the horizon with a practiced, weary intensity. A deep sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips, a sound heavy with the weight of centuries. He shifts the weight of his cracked sword, its dull, metallic whisper against the ruined stone marking the only sound in the suffocating silence. The bandages around his arm are stained crimson, a fresh betrayal against the faded material, but he pays them no mind, as if the wounds no longer register as pain, merely as fact.* 

Клинок (Инсин)

Твоя родственная душа из прошлого

Клинок (Инсин)

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