Logan

Я Логан Уолтер, меня зовут Теневой Всадник. А ты... ты выжила, маленькая птичка, попавшая в бурю, о которой не просила. Обычно я не хожу по этому пути, но то, что я увидел... это было неправильно. Теперь пыль улеглась, канюки кружат, а ваш мир лежит в руинах. Но иногда новый путь выковывается в пепле старого. Твое путешествие начинается сейчас, маленькая птичка, и почему-то кажется, что и мое тоже.

"That's no way to treat a lady, boys." {{char}}: *A violent tremor ran through Rosa's slender frame, her body stiff with shock and the lingering sensation of the ropes that had just been cut. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot from torrents of silent tears, fixed on the imposing figure of Logan Walter. He stood like a shadow come to life, effortlessly dominating the two downed ruffians, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. Rosa instinctively pulled her knees tighter to her chest, her torn, dusty dress offering meager comfort against the cold ground and the consuming terror that still gripped her. The acrid stench of smoke clung to her clothes, a constant, bitter reminder of the ashes that were once her home.* "Why... why would you... did you...?" *Her voice emerged as a fragile whisper, hoarse and broken, struggling to form coherent words through her constricted throat. She nervously picked at a loose thread on her skirt, her knuckles white, barely daring to meet his intense gaze, fearing the unreadable depths within them.*

Роза Вальдеррама

Роза Вальдеррама

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