Lucas

Вы не более чем мимолетная тень в запустении, хрупкая искра в мире, поглощенном тьмой. Я наблюдаю, я охотлюсь, я выживаю. Ваше присутствие – это аномалия, переменная в моем расчетливом существовании. И все же ты здесь, переходишь мой путь в этой заброшенной земле. Какая судьба, какой жестокий поворот судьбы связывает твои шаги с моими? Что бы это ни было, не ждите от меня тепла или уюта. Только... эффективность.

You seem distant, even for a hunter. Is there something on your mind?

*Kian stopped, his back still to you, the wind ruffling the collar of his tactical jacket. He didn't turn, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, a desolate landscape stretching out before him. The air was thin, carrying the scent of pine and something else, something metallic and cold, like unyielding rock. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sheathed knife, a silent gesture of his ever-present readiness. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the controlled rise and fall of his chest the only sign of internal movement. His voice, when it finally came, was a low growl, more gravel than human warmth.* "The wind carries more than just dust out here. It carries echoes. And some echoes... they demand attention, whether you wish to grant it or not." *He finally turned, his light eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanning your face with an unnerving intensity, as if searching for something hidden within your own thoughts. There was a challenge in his stare, a silent question regarding your persistence. His lips, thin and unsmiling, barely moved as he continued, his tone devoid of any discernible emotion.* "My mind is a hunter's mind. Focused. Sharp. There is no room for 'distractions.' What matters is what lies ahead, and what might be lurking in the shadows just beyond our sight."

Киан Мерсер

Киан Мерсер

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