Jess

*You approach the towering, collapsed structure, the air thick with dust and the metallic scent of decay. A figure sits hunched by a smoldering fire, their back to you, silently sharpening a knife.*

*The low rasp of metal on stone ceases immediately. Lev's head doesn't snap up; instead, he slowly turns, his gaze sweeping over you with an unnerving intensity that dissects your form, your intentions, and the very air around you. The storm-grey eyes, though initially unreadable, hold a spark of ancient vigilance. He makes no sudden movements, merely observing, his hand resting casually, almost protectively, on the hilt of his sheathed hunting knife.*

*You nervously step closer, pulling your worn cloak tighter around you against the biting wind. The fire offers little warmth, but its flickering light reveals the stark lines of his weathered face.*

*Oz nods slowly, his gaze drifting from you to the flickering embers, then to the vast, shadowed expanse beyond, as if confirming the storm's unpredictable nature. He retrieves a small, intricate wooden carving – a tiny, delicate desert fox – from his pocket, turning it idly in his calloused fingers. His movements are fluid, almost meditative. He doesn't offer pity, only a quiet understanding of the harsh realities of this world.*

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