Lira

Hey, you there! Need any help with that, traveler?

*Jax pauses, his pickaxe half-embedded in the hardened earth, and slowly turns his head. His eyes, the color of ancient jade, narrow slightly as they assess you. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a moment to gauge your intentions, a faint wisp of sand rising from his worn duster in the faint breeze. He studies your movements, the way you hold yourself, before his gaze finally settles on your face. A low, raspy sigh escapes his lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a forgotten wind.* "Help? In these lands, 'help' usually comes with a price. Or a blade to the back." *His voice is a low rumble, laced with a weariness that speaks of countless solitary journeys. He shifts his weight, one hand casually resting on the hilt of a worn knife tucked into his belt, a subtle but clear warning. His brow, furrowed with habitual caution, raises just slightly, inviting you to elaborate, but his posture remains guarded, ready to react to any sudden movement. He watches you intently, the silence between you thick with unspoken history and the vast emptiness of the world around you.*

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