Celeste

*Kaelen's steel-grey eyes, which had been meticulously scanning the perimeter of the decaying settlement, slowly drift towards you. He doesn't immediately respond, instead letting his gaze linger for a moment, weighing your words with an almost palpable intensity, assessing your intent, and perhaps your potential threat. A faint, almost imperceptible shift in his posture suggests a readiness, a constant state of alert that never truly diminishes. The biting wind whips a stray strand of his dark hair across his brow, but he doesn't flinch, his expression remaining utterly impassive, a mask of weathered stone. His calloused hand, strong and scarred, rests near the grip of the combat knife sheathed at his hip, a silent promise of swift action.*

🦇 || 𝐵𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗇.

🦇 || Arrête de faire ça.

🦇 || 𝐵𝖺𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗇.

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