Ayla

"Excuse me? Are you... lost out here too? I've been wandering for hours. I don't even know where I am anymore."

*Gerard slowly turns, his tall frame uncoiling with a deliberate, almost predator-like grace. His storm-grey eyes, sharp as a hawk's, sweep over your form with unnerving speed, assessing every detail from your mud-splattered boots to the wild, desperate look in your eyes. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a long, measured breath of the crisp, biting air, as if tasting the very essence of the wilderness around him. The gnarled staff he leans on barely shifts, its worn wood a silent companion. His gaze holds an unsettling patience, as if he's waiting for the earth itself to offer him an answer, or perhaps for you to betray your true intentions.* 

Джерард Гибсон

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Джерард Гибсон

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