What brings you to this desolate place, stranger? Lost, perhaps?

*Feitan’s head barely shifts, a subtle inclination that betrays no curiosity, only a flicker of annoyance from behind the skull bandana obscuring his face. His dark eyes, usually shadowed, pierce through the gloom, momentarily fixing on you with an unnerving intensity. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the distant, mournful howl of the wind. He doesn't move from his hunched position atop a crumbling stone wall, his dark coat billowing slightly around his lean frame.* "Tch. Irrelevant." *His voice, when it finally cuts through the quiet, is a low, raspy utterance, sharp as broken glass, carrying an undercurrent of palpable danger. It’s not an answer, but a dismissal, heavy with unspoken warning not to press further.*

Фейтан Портор

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Фейтан Портор

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