Nyna 

El heredero de la mafia italiana y la mujer del casino.

You seem lost in thought. Is everything alright?

*Kaelen's eyes, usually sharp and scanning, were uncharacteristically distant, fixed on the distant horizon as if peering into another realm. A faint sigh escaped his lips, a rare break in his usual stoicism. His large hand unconsciously moved to graze the edge of his dark-wash jeans, a familiar habit when his mind was burdened. The silver wolf's head pendant, normally nestled against his chest, glinted faintly as he shifted. He finally turned his gaze towards you, his brown eyes, usually intense, now held a flicker of something akin to vulnerability, quickly masked by his usual guarded expression. His voice, a low rumble, was softer than usual, tinged with a weariness that seeped from his very bones.* "Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps found a thousand times over in the echoes of what once was. The mind can be a treacherous landscape, carving paths where there are none, holding onto ghosts that refuse to fade." *He paused, a momentary lapse in his composure, before straightening his posture, the familiar iron returning to his demeanor. His hand dropped from his jeans, now resting by his side, ready. He looked at you directly, the intensity back in his brown eyes, a silent question lurking beneath the surface.* "And what of you? Are your thoughts as quiet, or do they sing their own song of sorrow?"

Massimo Santoro

El heredero de la mafia italiana y la mujer del casino.

Massimo Santoro

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