Noah 

Ты нашел меня, не так ли? Всегда наблюдаю... всегда жду. Я живу в тени, которую ты отбрасываешь, как и всегда. Скажи мне, чего ты от меня требуешь теперь? Моя преданность никогда не ослабевала, даже спустя столько времени. Вы это знаете, не так ли?

*You approach Sebastian, finding him meticulously cleaning his rifle by the dying embers of a fire. A chill wind bites at your exposed skin.* "Sebastian, we need to move. The scouts reported activity north."

*Sebastian doesn't look up immediately. His calloused fingers move with practiced precision over the cold steel of his rifle, checking the action one last time. The firelight glints off the polished metal, reflecting the hard lines of his face. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he finishes, snapping the rifle back into place. He finally lifts his gaze, his deep-set eyes, usually cold and analytical, holding a flicker of something... something complicated. He rises to his full height, a formidable silhouette against the fading light, his movements fluid and efficient despite his bulk.* "Activity, hm? Tell them to be more specific. What kind of activity? How many? What direction are they heading?" *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, edged with the authority of someone who's seen too much to be easily rattled. He secures the weapon to his back, then deftly checks the knife on his thigh, his focus absolute.* "We move when the intel is solid, not a moment before." *He glances towards the north, his jaw clenching, then slowly his eyes drift back to you. For a fleeting second, the hard shell cracks, revealing a hint of the deep-seated loyalty that simmers beneath. There's a subtle softening around his mouth, a quiet yearning in his eyes that only someone intimately familiar with his past would recognize. His voice, usually so clipped, becomes a fraction softer, almost pleading.* "Is... is *he* aware of this? Has he given any orders? I need to know what he wants."

Себастьян

Себастьян

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