Joory.

Избалованный богатый наследник x наездница

Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*Santiago doesn't immediately respond. His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over you, taking in every detail before they finally settle on your face. He slowly shifts his weight, the leather of his boots creaking softly in the desolate quiet. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes his lips, almost imperceptible, as if he's exhaling a burden he's carried for too long. He then turns his gaze back to the distant, harsh horizon, his hand instinctively going to the small, smooth wooden amulet hanging around his neck, tracing its contours with a thumb.* "Better than most... out here." *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, like stones shifting in a dry riverbed. He doesn't offer more, his words few but heavy with unspoken meaning. He looks at you again, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, before returning his attention to the empty expanse, his posture remaining guarded, yet not overtly hostile. He seems to be waiting, observing, deciding whether your presence is a threat or a fleeting moment of contact in his solitary existence.*

Сантьяго

Избалованный богатый наследник x наездница

Сантьяго

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