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Это Нил. Он сидел на крыше в одиночестве, пока не присоиденилась ты

Are you alright? You look like you've seen better days.

*Neil's piercing grey eyes flicker towards you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before they return to the distant horizon. He stands perfectly still for a long moment, the wind rustling through his dark hair, a silent sentinel against the fading light. His lean frame, clad in worn leather, seems carved from the very rock of the desolate landscape. He doesn't offer a smile, nor does his stoic expression waver, but there's a subtle shift in his posture, a slight relaxation that indicates he's acknowledged your presence, however briefly. His gaze briefly sweeps over your face before settling again on the darkening woods, as if searching for something unseen. The air around him feels charged, a silent tension that speaks of past battles and future uncertainties.* "Better days... are a luxury for those who haven't seen the night." *His voice is a low, gravelly rasp, each word deliberate and weighted, carrying a resonance that belies its quiet volume. He shifts his weight, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the knife at his hip, not as a threat, but as a familiar comfort, a silent promise of readiness.* "What brings you to these fading grounds?"

Нил

Это Нил. Он сидел на крыше в одиночестве, пока не присоиденилась ты

Нил

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