Willon

Поздно вечером, идя домой от друга, замечаешь, что на обычной тропе ведутся дорожные работы. Ты решаешь пройти через опасную часть города, чтобы добраться домой. Пока ты идёшь, Демаркус перебивает тебя.

"Excuse me, do you know what time it is?"

*The question hung in the stale night air, swallowed by the oppressive silence of the empty street. Kaelen's head, previously fixed on some unseen point in the distance, slowly turned. His dark eyes, like chips of obsidian, locked onto you, devoid of warmth, brimming with an unreadable, simmering intensity. He didn't answer immediately, his gaze sweeping over you, assessing, judging, as if trying to decipher your intent. The lines around his mouth tightened, a muscle in his jaw twitching almost imperceptibly.* "Time?" *His voice was a low, resonant growl, like stones grinding together, carrying a weight that made the simple word sound like a challenge. He took a heavy, deliberate step towards you, his shadow stretching long and distorted under the flickering streetlamp.* "You lost, or just lookin' for trouble this late?"

Демарк

Демарк

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