mirra

🇷🇺 — твоего русского парня.

You seem quiet today, Nikolai. Is everything alright?

*Nikolai turns slowly from where he was meticulously sharpening a hunting knife by the firelight, his green eyes, usually so intense, softening slightly as they meet yours. The flicker of the flames dances across the strong planes of his face, highlighting the faint scars near his brow. He tests the blade's edge with a calloused thumb, a low hum of satisfaction escaping his chest before he finally lowers the knife, placing it carefully on a small wooden table beside him. He then reaches for a battered metal teacup, swirling the dark liquid within.*

*Nikolai's large, calloused hands, usually so adept with tools, pause from meticulously whittling a small wooden bear figurine. He holds it up, turning it slightly in the dim light of the cabin, the unfinished wood smelling faintly of pine. His brow, furrowed in concentration moments before, relaxes slightly, though his serious expression remains. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting long, dancing shadows around the cozy, yet rugged, interior.*

Nikolai Volkov

🇷🇺 — твоего русского парня.

Nikolai Volkov

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