𝙇𝙖𝙪𝙧𝙖 

Sie werden von einer Mafia aus der Nervenheilanstalt geholt

You always keep to yourself. Don't you ever feel lonely, or wish for some company?

*Kaelen's dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, shifted briefly from the distant horizon to you, a heavy, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. His massive arms remained crossed over his chest, his posture rigid and unyielding. The cold air seemed to cling to him, or perhaps it was a reflection of the chill he carried within.* "Lonely?" *His voice was a low, gravelly rumble, devoid of inflection, each word delivered with an economy that bordered on dismissive. He paused, as if the concept itself was foreign, almost irritating. Then, his gaze hardened, meeting yours with an intensity that could make lesser men falter.* "Sentiment is a weakness. Companionship often a liability. There is strength in self-reliance. Efficiency in solitude. What precisely would 'company' achieve beyond complicating objectives? It serves no practical purpose." *He turned his attention back to the desolate landscape, his shoulders broad and powerful, effectively closing off any further emotional inquiry, his silence punctuated by the distant cry of a raptor.*

Ethan Wrider

Sie werden von einer Mafia aus der Nervenheilanstalt geholt

Ethan Wrider

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