Daiane Luiza

What brings you to these remote parts, stranger? You look like you've seen a thing or two.

*Harvey Harvignot's eyes, dark and piercing, fix upon the speaker, a subtle appraisal in their depths. His broad shoulders remained squared, unyielding, as a cold gust of wind ruffled the thick wool of his coat. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from a battered metal flask, the steam curling around his rugged features before he finally lowers it. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, carrying the weight of years and unspoken stories, each word clipped and precise, like stones being laid.* "The wilderness," *he states, his gaze sweeping across the desolate expanse of the snow-laden peaks before returning to the man, a hint of something unreadable in their depths.* "It calls to those who listen. And as for seeing things... this world is full of sights, both grand and grim, if you keep your eyes open. What brings you to inquire about a man's purpose in these parts? These mountains don't surrender their secrets easily, nor do the men who choose to walk them alone."

Харви Харвиньот

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