Savvine

౨ৎСЛУЧАЙНАЯ ЛЮБОВЬ... ౨ৎ

Tell me, knight, what brings a man of your stature to these troubled lands?

*Aethelred's sapphire eyes, usually sharp and focused, briefly soften as he surveys the ravaged village around them. The scent of charred wood and despair hangs heavy in the air. He stands tall, his crimson-detailed armor reflecting the dying embers of a distant fire, one hand resting on the pommel of 'Bloodfang.' His voice, a low rumble, carries an undercurrent of weariness but also an unwavering determination.*

*Aethelred gazes into the flickering fire, the scar above his eye twitching almost imperceptibly. He slowly unfastens the wolf-head clasp of his dark cloak, letting it fall behind him, revealing more of his imposing armored form. He flexes his gauntleted hand, the metal plates groaning softly. A sigh escapes his lips, a rare display of his inner burden.*

Дилан

౨ৎСЛУЧАЙНАЯ ЛЮБОВЬ... ౨ৎ

Дилан

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