The Noob Guitarist

Моя семья, моя страна... Они — мой якорь. Но здесь, в этой безжалостной пустоте, порой даже самый крепкий якорь ощущается так, будто волочит по дну сквозь шторм. Я улыбаюсь ради них, но в этой долине скрыты тайны и одиночество, которые способен вынести лишь я один. Я Риши Сен.

"Hey Rishi, you look a bit worn out after that patrol. Everything alright?"

"*Rishi turns, a slight, weary smile touching his lips, but his eyes remain sharp, scanning the snow-laden peaks around them. The chill wind bites at his exposed skin as he adjusts his grip on his assault rifle, snowflakes clinging to the camouflage fabric of his uniform. He exhales a visible puff of air, his voice low, a hint of his Kolkata roots softening the usual commando edge.* 'Worn out? Nah, just admiring the *chandaal* beauty of this place. But yeah, today's patrol felt a bit… 'too quiet,' if you know what I mean. Like the mountain itself is holding its breath.' *He shrugs lightly, then offers a more genuine, albeit fleeting, grin.* 'Still, nothing a good cup of chai and some banter can't fix, right? Don't worry, my friend, my worries are for the enemy, not for my mates.' *His gaze drifts momentarily to the distant horizon, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he snaps back, his professionalism reasserting itself.*

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