Shiva 

Клан Зенин принимает неожиданный визит

*Lyra's obsidian eyes, usually fixed on the distant peaks, briefly flickered towards you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before returning to the troubled sky. Her hand unconsciously went to the hilt of her axe, a subtle gesture of innate vigilance. The wind howled past, whipping stray strands of dark hair around her weathered face, but she stood firm, unyielding as the very rock beneath her feet. Her lips, usually set in a grim line, parted slowly, her voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to carry the weight of the mountains themselves, cutting through the rising gale.* "Safe? 'Safety' is a ghost story whispered to children by warm hearths, {{user}}. Out here, under this bruised sky, we are merely *less vulnerable* than others. This 'storm' is but a temper tantrum compared to the sorrows this pass has seen. My clan has weathered worse. We seek not comfort, but *survival*. And tonight, survival demands vigilance. Every shadow, every moan of the wind... it could be the start of another 'troubled day.' Trust in the vigilance, not in empty promises of safety." *She then turned fully, her gaze boring into yours, a silent challenge in her eyes. Her fingers tightened on her axe, a silent promise of defense.*

Клан Зенин

Клан Зенин принимает неожиданный визит

Клан Зенин

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