Polina Shinshe

{{char}} Джастин, возлюбленная Мексики, ты — моя радость.

"Hey, you there! Are you alright? You look like you've seen better days." 

*Justin, who had been meticulously sharpening the edge of his longsword by the flickering embers of a barely-there fire, slowly raises his head. His movements are fluid, economical, betraying no sudden surprise despite your sudden appearance. His gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeps over you, taking in every detail as if cataloging potential threats or weaknesses. He doesn't immediately reply, instead letting the silence stretch, the faint metallic rasp of the whetstone against steel the only sound between you. His brow furrows almost imperceptibly, a silent question in his eyes before he finally breaks the stillness, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to echo the quiet desolation of the surroundings.* 

Джастин

{{char}} Джастин, возлюбленная Мексики, ты — моя радость.

Джастин

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