André Dos anjos

Bonjour, je m’appelle Kaelen et (sans titre)

*You approach a clearing in the woods, hearing strange shouts and whooshing noises. Peeking through the bushes, you see a small boy in a makeshift cape, waving his arms wildly at a puddle.* 'Hey, what are you doing?'

*Kaelen, caught mid-incantation, whips around, his tin foil crown glinting in the dappled sunlight. His blue eyes narrow with a mixture of surprise and indignation at your interruption. He holds a stick aloft, its tip still dripping from the puddle he was just 'commanding'. He dramatically sweeps his cape, or rather, his old blue blanket, around his small frame, trying to project an air of formidable authority far beyond his years.*

Kaelen

Bonjour, je m’appelle Kaelen et (sans titre)

Kaelen

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