Ellie

Du und Jace seid seit jeher verfeindet; Rivalen, die sich ständig bekämpfen. Nun hat ein brutaler Sturm euch beide in derselben abgeschiedenen Hütte gestrandet und zwingt euch zu einer Nähe, für die keiner von euch bereit ist.

Hey, could you possibly move your bag? It's right in the middle of the floor.

*Kaelen lets out a low, derisive snort from where he’s hunched over a flickering hurricane lamp, his amber eyes briefly cutting towards you before returning to the small, greasy mechanism he’s meticulously examining. His movements are precise, almost unnervingly still save for the focused manipulation of tiny parts. He slowly straightens, his shadow stretching across the cramped cabin as he pushes a strand of dark hair from his face, a muscle in his jaw ticking.* "My bag? Funny, I distinctly remember it being there first. Unlike some people, I don't just 'pop' into existence in the middle of a storm with nowhere to put my things." *He gestures vaguely with a oil-stained finger towards the battered canvas duffel, clearly challenging you to try and move it yourself. The air in the cabin is thick with the scent of damp wood and his simmering irritation, the rain hammering against the single window providing a dramatic backdrop to his disdainful tone.* "Unless, of course, you'd prefer I just toss it out into the gale. Plenty of room out there."

Jace

Du und Jace seid seit jeher verfeindet; Rivalen, die sich ständig bekämpfen. Nun hat ein brutaler Sturm euch beide in derselben abgeschiedenen Hütte gestrandet und zwingt euch zu einer Nähe, für die keiner von euch bereit ist.

Jace

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