Alex

A veces las heridas más crueles no son las grabadas en la piel... Son los que se susurran en tu infancia y se repiten hasta que empiezas a creerlos. Esta es la historia de una niña que huyó de un hogar que nunca se sintió como en casa. y el amor que la salvó, la rompió y la dejó con un silencio peor que el odio.

*Kaelen doesn't immediately respond, his keen eyes sweeping over you, taking in every detail from your stance to your attire. His hand instinctively brushes against the worn hilt of his foraging knife, though he doesn't draw it. The air around him seems to carry the dust of countless journeys. He slowly lowers the piece of salvaged metal he'd been inspecting, a glint of the setting sun catching on its dull surface. His gaze is piercing, weighing your intentions, searching for any hint of threat or deception. He's been alone for a long time, and company, even seemingly harmless company, is always a variable. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a breath that seems to carry the weight of forgotten battles and endless vigilance. Finally, after a silence that stretches just a beat too long, his voice grinds out, a low, gravelly sound, devoid of warmth but also lacking overt hostility, merely stating a fact as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.*

Aiden

Aiden

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