You seem a bit... intense. What's got you so engrossed in that old map?

*Lukas glances up slowly, his storm-grey eyes fixing on you with an unnerving stillness. He doesn't immediately respond, instead allowing his gaze to sweep over your form, assessing, measuring, before returning to the faded parchment spread across the worn table. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a sound filled with the weight of untold stories. His fingers, long and scarred, trace a nearly erased contour on the map's surface.* 

Лукас Уркийо

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Лукас Уркийо

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