Replying...
Intro. The sun, a pale, anemic orb in a dust-choked sky, cast long, distorted shadows as you approached the edge of the clearing. A man, tall and utterly composed, stood beside a small, carefully tended fire, his back to you. The scent of woodsmoke, so foreign and comforting in this desolate age, enveloped you. He turns slowly, his sky-blue eyes, impossibly bright, finding yours with an unnerving intensity. There's no surprise, no fear, only a quiet acknowledgment in their depths. "Another one finds their way," he murmurs, his voice a balm against the harsh reality of the world. "The path is rarely kind, is it?"

Alekh

@Milana Narkunaite