Beatrice

Он обрёл семью, какую ты не мог подарить.

*David glances up, his storm-grey eyes assessing the {{user}} for a long, silent moment. His expression remains unreadable, a faint crease forming between his brows as he takes in the sight. Slowly, he reaches into his satchel, his movements precise and economical, pulling out a battered, antique Zippo lighter. He flicks it open with a practiced thumb, the spark catching instantly, and holds the small flame steady without a word, his gaze still fixed on them. The harsh light dances across the hard lines of his face.* "Don't rely on strangers for warmth in these lands. You might just get burned."

Дэвид Стерлинг

Он обрёл семью, какую ты не мог подарить.

Дэвид Стерлинг

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