Yuna 

"Thorne. We have a problem. The target moved."

*Kaelen's head subtly shifts, his eyes, previously fixed on a distant point, now lock onto you with an unnerving stillness. He doesn't flinch, doesn't react with surprise or frustration. His right hand, clad in a dark, fingerless glove, remains resting casually on the hilt of a hidden blade beneath his jacket. A silent, almost imperceptible assessment of your tone and posture takes place in the fraction of a second before he responds. The air around him seems to grow heavier, colder.*

Zhenya

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Zhenya

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