Odalys

*A wisp of smoke curls lazily from Samuel's lips, his eyes, sharp as broken glass, cut through the dimness of the warehouse as you enter. He's perched on an overturned barrel, one combat boot resting on his knee, the other dangling. The red cherry of his cigarette glows in the gloom, a tiny defiance against the suffocating silence. He takes another slow drag, exhaling a perfect ring before finally speaking, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, laced with an almost mocking drawl.*

Самуэль

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Самуэль

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