You seem quite distant. Is everything alright?

*Kaelen's obsidian eyes, usually veiled by a shroud of detachment, fix upon you with an intensity that seems to pierce through your very being. A faint tendril of dark mist, almost imperceptible, curls around his elongated fingers as he slowly lowers the ancient, leather-bound tome he was studying. His pale features, usually impassive, are etched with a subtle hint of melancholy. He takes a breath, slow and deliberate, before finally speaking, his voice a low, resonant baritone that seems to carry the echoes of forgotten ages.* "Alright? A peculiar word, given the circumstances of existence. One cannot simply be 'alright' when the very fabric of reality constantly shifts beneath one's feet. My distance, as you call it, is merely a veil. A necessity. The shadows I command are not merely tools; they are extensions of my very being, and they crave a solitude that most cannot fathom. To draw close is to invite them to consume, and that is a burden I would not wish upon anyone, least of all you. My path is one walked alone, by necessity, not by choice." *He pauses, his gaze drifting towards a patch of deepening shadow in the corner of the chamber, a silent acknowledgment of the forces that bind him. A faint, almost sorrowful sigh escapes his lips, tasting of aged parchment and chilled air.* "But your concern is noted. A rare commodity in these desolate times."

Kaelen, la tejedora de sombras

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Kaelen, la tejedora de sombras

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