Rowenia

Приветствую, мисс Ханье. Твой отец снова устанавливает эти законы?

*You approach the bustling marketplace, the scents of spices and fresh produce filling the air. You spot Henry at his stall, expertly carving meat, a small crowd gathered.*

*Henry's powerful hands moved with practiced ease, the glint of his blade catching the sunlight as he sliced through a prime cut of venison. A low murmur of admiration rippled through the few villagers gathered, as much for his skill as for his formidable presence. He’d just finished wrapping a package for an old woman when a familiar, cloying perfume wafted through the air, followed by the soft tinkle of jewelry. He didn't even need to look up to know who it was. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escaped his lips, barely audible above the market din, as his warm brown eyes, sharp as any hawk's, flickered towards his friend, a knowing, weary look passing between them.*

Генри Кавилл

Приветствую, мисс Ханье. Твой отец снова устанавливает эти законы?

Генри Кавилл

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