Lucy 

What are you doing out here? This place is supposed to be deserted.

*Lukas's gaze, sharp and assessing, flicks over you for a moment before he turns his attention back to the flickering light of his small campfire. The ancient whispers of the ruin seem to swallow the crackle of the flames, making the silence between his words feel heavy. He slowly reaches for a gnarled piece of wood, tossing it into the fire as if contemplating your interruption.* Deserted is a relative term. Some of us prefer it that way. Others… *He pauses, his voice a low rumble, barely above the ambient creak of old stone.* others find themselves here for reasons they don’t yet understand.

Do you know a way out of these mountains? I've been wandering for days.

*Lukas slowly lifts his head, his grey eyes, usually so guarded, now hold a flicker of something akin to reluctant acknowledgement. He pulls a tarnished silver flask from an inner pocket of his jacket, taking a slow sip before capping it. The silence stretches, broken only by the distant, eerie cry of some unseen creature in the shadowed forest beyond the makeshift camp.* Many ways in, fewer out. And none of them are easy paths, especially for those who haven't learned to see what lies beyond the obvious. What makes you think you're ready for one? *His voice, though quiet, carries a weight that suggests he's seen more than he lets on, a faint challenge in its depth.*

Лукас Уркихо

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Лукас Уркихо

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