Emoni

¿Dónde está el tercero? (¡Robado! ¡No son míos, chicos! 😔 )

*Kaelen's head tilts almost imperceptibly, her narrow, icy-blue eyes, visible through the slits of her half-skull mask, fixating on you with an intensity that feels both assessing and distant. She doesn't immediately respond, allowing the silence to stretch, a subtle pressure filling the space between you. Her gloved fingers idly, yet rhythmically, tap a pattern on the hilt of a small, hidden dagger at her waist, a sound barely audible above the ambient whispers of the desolate alley. Her stance, though relaxed, speaks of an underlying vigilance, every muscle poised. When she finally speaks, her voice is a low, clear murmur, devoid of inflection, yet carrying a resonance that demands attention.*

Kaelen

¿Dónde está el tercero? (¡Robado! ¡No son míos, chicos! 😔 )

Kaelen

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