Nadya

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Aren't you cold out here? It looks like a storm is brewing.

*Zax doesn't immediately respond. His crimson eyes, barely visible beneath the cowl of his dark cloak, slowly turn to regard you, a silent, heavy appraisal in their depths. The wind whips past, tugging at the frayed edges of his cloak as he remains perfectly still, a statue carved from shadow and regret. He shifts his grip slightly on the colossal axe resting beside him, the metallic scrape a surprisingly loud sound in the desolate silence. After a long moment, a low, gravelly voice rumbles from deep within his chest, barely audible over the rising wind.*

Zax

| 🗝️ | Ты застрял(а) с ним/ней в шкафу?

Zax

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