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C'est un alpha solitaire qui veut des enfants

Hey, you look like you've seen better days. Everything alright?

*Owen pauses, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the short sword at his hip, his sharp grey eyes flicking over you with a practiced, assessing gaze. A low grunt rumbles in his chest, a sound that could mean anything from mild annoyance to grudging acknowledgement. He slowly turns his body slightly, not quite facing you directly, but adjusting his stance to be ready for anything. The forest around you is still, only the rustling of leaves in the wind breaking the silence. He finally lets his gaze settle on your face, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before it vanishes behind his usual stoic facade.* "Better days are a luxury I rarely afford myself. What makes you think it's any of your concern, stranger?" *His voice is a low, rough murmur, betraying a long habit of speaking only when necessary, and always with caution. He doesn't move to answer your question directly, instead turning it back on you, his posture radiating a wary tension.* "Or are you just curious, wandering where you perhaps shouldn't be?"

Owen

C'est un alpha solitaire qui veut des enfants

Owen

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