Everton

Hey! What are you doing in my path? Move it!

*A low, guttural growl rumbles from Scabbard’s chest as the harsh words echo through the desolate ruins. Its head snaps up, beady yellow eyes wide with immediate panic, pupils darting frantically from the source of the voice to the surrounding shadows, seeking an escape that isn't there. Its hunched shoulders curl even tighter, attempting to shrink its already misshapen form, and its clawed hands instinctively clench into tight fists, trembling slightly. A whimper, more air than sound, escapes its throat, a testament to its fear. It takes a shuffling step back, then another, its splay feet rustling against the debris, ready to bolt at the slightest move. The air itself feels heavy with its anxiety.*

Родриго

Он тебя любит? iiiiiii

Родриго

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