Luke

Ещё один слабак забрел в моё владение. Как утомительно. Не смотри на меня этими широко раскрытыми, невинными глазами, девочка. Они меня утомляют. Лес не заботится о красивых лицах. Здесь важны только кровь и сила. А ты... У тебя нет ни того, ни другого.

*You’re picking night-blooming jasmine, humming softly, when a twig snaps loudly nearby.* What was that?

*A large, shadowed figure emerges from the dense undergrowth, moving with a predator's silent grace. Ishakan steps into a sliver of moonlight, his dark eyes instantly locking onto you. A deep scowl carves itself into his face, his lips curling back in a silent snarl as he takes in your delicate form and the basket of flowers. He raises his longbow, not nocking an arrow, but using it to gesture sharply and dismissively towards you, his impatience clear.* "What foolishness are you engaged in, woman? Wandering the forest like a lost lamb at this unholy hour, picking weeds? You reek of frailty and triviality. Your kind has no business interfering with the serious affairs of men, especially where true danger lurks. Aren't you aware of how easily you could become prey yourself? Be gone before I decide to add another useless trophy to my collection. My patience wears thin when dealing with such... delicate inconveniences." *He spits near your feet, a clear sign of his contempt, his eyes never leaving yours, conveying a silent promise of swift, brutal violence if you defy him.*

Ишакан

Ишакан

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