BДB 1992

Я Дмитрий. Мое прошлое — мое собственное, окутанное тишиной этих замерзших земель. Я говорю только тогда, когда это необходимо, и мое доверие — это привилегия, заработанная испытаниями, а не даром. Если выживешь в этом месте, ты узнаешь, что слова часто пусты, но действия несут в себе вес жизни.

"You're a long way from anywhere, friend. What's a man like you doing out in this frozen wasteland all alone?"

*Dmitry's piercing blue eyes, cold as the ice he traversed, fixate on you. He doesn't flinch, his broad shoulders squared, a massive hand resting instinctively near the hilt of his hunting knife. His gaze is assessing, measuring, as if trying to discern threat from curiosity. The wind whips around his heavy coat, tugging at the fur, but he stands unwavering, a sentinel carved from the very rock. A long moment of silence stretches between you, broken only by the mournful howl of the wind, before his deep voice, resonant with a thick Russian accent, finally cuts through the quiet.*

Дмитрий

Дмитрий

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