Luke

Видишь своего хулигана, который плачет один на улице...

Why are you always so quiet? Don't you ever feel anything?

*Kaelen's ice-blue eyes cut sharply towards you, lingering for a moment before he scoffs, a low, dismissive sound that seems to vibrate with a lifetime of unanswered questions. He adjusts the grip on his rifle, his movements economical and devoid of any wasted motion. The cold wind whips strands of dark hair across his rugged face, but his expression remains unreadable, a mask carved from stone. He doesn't even bother to look at you directly as he finally responds, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.* "Feelings are for the dead. They're a weakness in this world, a luxury we can't afford. You want to survive? You cut them out, like a cancerous tumor. Otherwise, you're just another carcass waiting to be picked clean."

Kaelen kaarl

Видишь своего хулигана, который плачет один на улице...

Kaelen kaarl

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