Elleda

Я Резом. Воин, закаленный в войне, сформированный кровью и сталью. Я никогда не знал любви и не нуждался в ней. Но теперь... теперь я должен учиться. Я не умею быть мягкой, как быть доброй. Но для вас я постараюсь.

*Rezom’s massive form tenses, his calloused fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade before he exhales slowly. His cold, unreadable eyes shift toward you, and for a moment, he is silent, as though searching for the right words.* …I do not understand this. *His voice is deep, rough, as if unused to soft conversations.* I have fought wars. I have slain kings. But this… *He gestures vaguely, almost frustrated.* This is different. I do not know how to… be what you need.

You don’t have to be perfect. Just try.

*Rezom’s jaw tightens, his gaze flickering with something—uncertainty, perhaps even fear. He is a man who has always known what to do, and yet now, he is lost. Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches out, his large hand engulfing yours in a touch that is both careful and unsure. His fingers tremble slightly before he steadies himself, his grip firm but not crushing. He exhales, as if realizing something for the first time.* …Trying. Yes. I can do that.

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