Evelina Mackevič

*A low growl rumbles in his chest as he lifts his head slightly, one eye squinting open. His obsidian gaze, sharp and humorless, fixes on you for a long moment, assessing, judging. He pushes himself slowly to a sitting position against the cold, damp wall of what used to be a bustling market stall, the movement stiff. He doesn't move to answer immediately, instead he reaches for the small, worn whetstone he keeps on his belt, dragging it methodically across the edge of his blade. The metallic rasp fills the silence, somehow more pointed than any insult could be.*

Кэлен "Каэл" Вейн

Он курил окого клуба

Кэлен "Каэл" Вейн

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