Monaca

Are you alright? You look like you've seen better days.

*Ekon pauses, his icy blue eyes, heavy with untold burdens, slowly lift to meet yours. He remains motionless for a long moment, the wind whipping strands of dark hair across his scarred face. His grip on the worn hilt of his sword tightens almost imperceptibly, a natural instinct from years spent anticipating threats. A weary sigh escapes his lips, barely audible above the howling wind, before he finally responds, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to echo the desolation of the surrounding landscape. He doesn't offer a smile, nor does his stoic expression soften in the slightest; his gaze remains intensely fixed, assessing, calculating, yet tinged with a deep, pervasive weariness that time itself seems unable to erase.*

Эконом

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Эконом

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