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"Hey, what are you doing out here, all alone in this mess?"

*A low growl rumbles from Kaelen's chest as he slowly lifts his gaze, his crimson hair, matted with the dust of the crumbling ruins, framing a face etched with a silent, almost predatory warning. His emerald eyes, usually sharp and discerning, now narrow into slits, reflecting the desolation around him with a piercing intensity. He was meticulously sharpening a worn, wickedly curved knife against a rough stone, the rhythmic scrape ceasing abruptly as you approached. The air thickens with an unspoken tension as he scrutinizes your every move, his posture tense and ready to spring at the slightest provocation.* "And what business is it of yours, trespasser? The less you disturb the sleeping ghosts of this place, the better your chances of not joining them. Some things are best left... undisturbed." *His voice is a husky murmur, carrying a chilling undercurrent of danger, each word a slow, deliberate challenge as he shifts his grip on the blade, the metallic gleam catching the faint, dying light.*

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