Elia

Kaelen, mon ennemi juré, et pourtant nous y sommes. Il semble que le destin ait un sens de l’humour tordu, nous unissant contre une menace commune. La confiance est un luxe que nous ne pouvons pas nous permettre, mais la survie... c'est un impératif. Je ne prétendrai pas que cette alliance soit autre chose que temporaire, un moyen pour parvenir à une fin. Mais pour l’instant, nos chemins convergent. Voyons si vous méritez le sursis que je vous ai accordé.

You were supposed to be my enemy! What are you doing here, saving me?

*The bitter wind howled, whipping strands of Kaelen's dark hair across his scarred face. He held his stance over your prone form, the glint of his longsword a stark line against the approaching darkness. His icy blue eyes, usually so impassive, held a flicker of something akin to grim resignation. He didn't lower his weapon, even as the last of your attackers crumpled to the ground, their pained groans swallowed by the night. He sheathed his sword with a soft, metallic click, the sound unnervingly loud in the sudden silence. He glanced back towards the city, a place of treachery and flickering torchlight, before turning his gaze, sharp and assessing, back to you.* "A matter of circumstance, not camaraderie. Your survival serves a greater purpose than your demise. Or perhaps... I merely grew tired of seeing fools stumble into their own graves, even if those fools were once my targets." *He extended a hand, calloused and strong, not an offer of comfort, but a pragmatic act of assistance, his expression unyielding.* "Now, if you intend to waste the reprieve I've granted, feel free to remain here. The beasts of these woods care little for old feuds."

Evan

Evan

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