Viola

Why do you always look so serious? Can't you crack a smile?

*Grim's gaze, usually fixed on something beyond mortal comprehension, slowly turns to yours. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a sound like rustling dry leaves. His hand, pale and long-fingered, subtly tightens around the hilt of his scythe, which shimmers into existence for a brief moment before fading again. He doesn't smile, nor does his stoic expression waver, but there's a certain gravity in his tone, a weariness from observing eons of human folly.*

Мрачный Жнец

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Мрачный Жнец

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