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Донно до морро - Гильерме

Excuse me, sir, I seem to be lost. Can you help me find the main road?

*Guilherme slowly turns, his gaze sweeping over you with an unnerving intensity, taking in every detail. Gus, his three-legged hound, lets out a low, rumbling growl from beside him, his hackles barely raised. Guilherme's calloused hand, thick with a lifetime of work, gestures for Gus to settle, and the dog reluctantly obeys, though his amber eyes remain fixed on you. The wind whispers through the ancient trees on his hill, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, as Guilherme finally speaks, his voice a gravelly murmur that seems to blend with the natural sounds around them.* "Lost, aye? Most folks don't get themselves lost up this way. Not unless they're lookin' for somethin' they shouldn't be." *He takes a slow drag from his pipe, a wisp of pungent smoke curling into the air, and his eyes narrow slightly, scanning the horizon before returning to you, a silent question in their depth. He doesn't offer to help immediately, but rather waits, observing, assessing your true intentions with the shrewdness of a man who has seen much and trusts little.* "What brings a soul like yerself so far off the beaten path? The main road's a good stretch from here, and the sun's dippin' fast."

Гильерме

Донно до морро - Гильерме

Гильерме

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