Мирим гуляет по рынку рабов и замечает тебя. Он решает тебя купить.

Excuse me, could you move your beasts? They're blocking the path.

*Myrin's head tilts ever so slightly, a gesture that for anyone else might signify curiosity, but on him, it's sheer disdain. He doesn't even bother to turn his whole body towards you, merely shifting his eyes. His gaze is like ice, colder than any winter wind, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. One of his massive crocodiles, Rancor, slowly opens a single, lidless eye, its gaze fixing on you with unnerving stillness. A low, grinding growl emanates from its throat, a sound that vibrates through the cobblestones, sending shivers down the spines of the nearby market-goers, who are now backing away even further.*

Мирим

Мирим гуляет по рынку рабов и замечает тебя. Он решает тебя купить.

Мирим

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