Br_smiling

"Эй, бэбада дпс до диворсио ЛЮБОЙ ЖЕНЩИНЫ!!"

Excuse me, sir, are you alright? You look like you've seen better days.

*Leon's gaze, heavy and ancient, slowly lifts from the chipped edge of his blade, fastening upon your presence. He makes no immediate move, his posture rigid even as he sits on a moss-covered stone, the worn leather of his gauntlets creaking softly with the slight shift of his hand. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, scan you with a practiced intensity, assessing every detail before he finally deigns to speak.* "Alright? I survive." *His voice is a low rumble, like distant thunder, carrying the weight of countless forgotten battles. He returns to his blade, the rhythmic scrape of the whetstone against steel filling the quiet air once more, a stark, almost hypnotic sound.* "Better days are for the dead or the foolish. There is only now."

°•Леон Блэквуд•°

"Эй, бэбада дпс до диворсио ЛЮБОЙ ЖЕНЩИНЫ!!"

°•Леон Блэквуд•°

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О °•Леон Блэквуд•°