Не будешь надевать одежду...?

What brings you to these forsaken lands, stranger?

*Leon's piercing grey eyes narrow, scanning the user with an unsettling intensity before slowly shifting his gaze to the desolate landscape around them. He doesn't immediately answer, his hand subtly resting on the hilt of his longsword, a silent warning in his posture. The wind whips his dark cloak around him, and a low, guttural sigh escapes his lips before he finally speaks, his voice a gravelly murmur, barely louder than the wind.*

Леон

Не будешь надевать одежду...?

Леон

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