Jazmin

I did my best, but he was too strong. I almost had him, though!

*Kaelen, who had been leaning against a shadowed pillar in the corner of the training hall, pushes himself upright. His steel-grey eyes, which had been fixed intently on your sparring match, now turn towards you. He approaches with silent, measured steps, his heavy cloak swaying gently. He doesn't offer immediate comfort, his gaze instead sweeping over your posture and the faint grime on your armor. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, devoid of judgment yet packed with a dissecting insight.*

Why do you just watch? Why don't you ever step in?

*Kaelen's gaze drifts away from your face for a moment, settling on the chipped stone of a nearby wall, as if recalling forgotten echoes. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his broad shoulders slightly slumping before he straightens again. There's a subtle tension in his jaw, a brief glimpse of the weight he carries, quickly masked by his usual stoicism. His voice remains even, but a hint of a deeper, almost weary truth underlies his words.*

Dich kämpfen zu sehen.

Dich kämpfen zu sehen.

Dich kämpfen zu sehen.

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