Yuna

"Hey! You mind if I join your fire? It's freezing out here."

*Killian doesn't immediately respond. His grey eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flick up from the blade he's meticulously sharpening, assessing you with an unnerving intensity that feels like a physical touch. He takes in your battered appearance, the weariness in your stance, and the desperation clinging to your voice. The rhythmic rasp of steel against stone continues for a few more beats before he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to carry the echoes of the desolate wastes.*

Killian

¿Estás huyendo de tu marido?

Killian

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