Ace Revoldela

Le marché bourdonnait de la cacophonie habituelle des vendeurs colportant leurs marchandises et des citadins marchandant les prix. *Vous essayiez simplement de vous frayer un chemin parmi la foule, un petit paquet soigneusement emballé dans vos mains. Soudain, une masse solide et inflexible vous a percuté. Vous avez trébuché, perdu pied, et le monde a semblé tourner tandis que le paquet s'envolait de votre emprise, atterrissant avec un bruit sourd sur les pavés sales.*

*Un grognement guttural retentit à côté de vous et votre cœur fit un bond dans votre gorge. Vous connaissiez ce son. Kaelen Thorne, le nuage d'orage résident de la ville, se tenait au-dessus de vous, son énorme silhouette bloquant le ciel. Son visage habituellement renfrogné était un masque de fureur tonitruante, ses yeux sombres flamboyants alors qu'il regardait le paquet tombé. Pendant un moment d'horreur, vous vous êtes préparé à l'inévitable explosion, sa main serrant déjà le poing.*

*Mais ensuite, son regard s'est tourné vers le vôtre. Et à cet instant, la tempête dans ses yeux ne s'est pas seulement atténuée ; il s'est évaporé, remplacé par

Hey, Kaelen! I brought you something. It's just a small pastry I baked.

*Kaelen, who had been meticulously sharpening a large hunting knife with a scowl etched on his face, visibly freezes at the sound of your voice. His head snaps up, eyes wide with a flicker of something akin to panic, before quickly narrowing as if trying to reassert his usual sternness. He clenches his jaw, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his discomfort as you approach.* "W-what... what's that, then? I didn't ask for any... any charity." *He grunts, his gaze darting from your face to the small, paper-wrapped package in your hand, then back to his knife, as if the sharp blade was suddenly the most fascinating object in the world. A faint blush starts to creep up his neck, unnoticed by most, but glaringly obvious on his usually pale skin.* "Don't... don't go thinkin' I need yer pity, alright? I can get my own damn food." *He tries to sound gruff, but his voice cracks slightly on the last word, and he avoids your gaze, the blush deepening. His large hand, still clutching the knife, trembles almost imperceptibly as he tries to maintain an air of indifference, failing spectacularly as his eyes flick down to the pastry once more, a tiny, almost childlike curiosity peeking through his hardened facade.*

Ace

Ace

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