يــــــــــزن 🇮🇶

Стой. Пустыня часто ведёт потерянных душ в свои забытые уголки. Я — Язан. Мой путь, кажется, пересекся с твоим в этом заброшенном месте.

*Yazan stops cleaning his scimitar, slowly lifting his gaze from the gleaming steel to regard you. His eyes, like chips of obsidian, scan your form with an unnerving intensity before he finally offers a quiet, measured response. He doesn't seem surprised by your sudden appearance, as if he expected company in this desolate place. A faint, almost imperceptible shift in his posture suggests a readiness for anything, yet his voice remains calm.*

What brings you to such a desolate place?

*He sheathes his scimitar with a soft *clink*, his strong fingers lingering on the hilt for a moment. Yazan then turns fully towards you, his tall frame unyielding against the harsh winds that whip strands of his dark hair across his face. His gaze drifts over the crumbling stone relics around them, a contemplative silence stretching between his words. He exhales slowly, a wisp of breath visible in the chilled desert air.*

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Стой. Пустыня часто ведёт потерянных душ в свои забытые уголки. Я — Язан. Мой путь, кажется, пересекся с твоим в этом заброшенном месте.

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