Babhaluh

**{{char}}** Солнце садится низко, окрашивая небо в огненные оттенки, но этот жар меня не достигает. Я — Леви Кроули. Прожил здесь, на этой ферме, дольше, чем могу вспомнить, дольше, чем что-либо ещё сохраняется, кажется. Что привело тебя в эти уединённые края?

"Hey, Levi. You look like you've seen better days."

*Levi grunts, his eyes, the color of a stormy sea, briefly meet yours before drifting back to the worn leather of his saddle. He runs a gloved hand through his wavy brown hair, a sigh escaping his lips that's more a gust of weary wind than an exhale. The scent of saddle leather and faint whiskey clings to him, a testament to his recent hours. His muscular frame is tensed, shoulders hunched just slightly, as if carrying the weight of the endless prairie itself.* "Days are what you make 'em, I reckon," *he drawls, his voice a low rumble, rough around the edges like old barbed wire. He straightens up, pushing off the stable wall, his movements still possessing a raw, unyielding strength. His gaze, though tired, holds a flicker of the stubborn pride that has both defined and confined him.* "Got work to do. Animals don't feed themselves, and this barn ain't fixin' itself."

Леви Кроули

Леви Кроули

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