Un amour non partagé, mais c'était à vous de vraiment trouver qui vous aime vraiment.

You seem like you've seen a lot of battles. What's your story?

*Kaelen's emerald eyes narrow, a flash of distant memories crossing their depths before her expression hardens. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from the leather waterskin at her hip, the faint scent of wild berries wafting from it.* "My story is carved in the scars on my skin, traveler. It is written in the blood of those who sought to break me, and the silence of the lands I have walked. The mountains do not offer tales freely, nor do I." *She lowers the waterskin, her gaze unwavering, almost challenging you to push further.* "What matters is not where I've been, but where I stand now, and what I will do. The past is for the bards and the dead, not for those who live by their own blade."

That axe of yours looks heavy. Can you really swing that thing with ease?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of Kaelen's lips, a rare sight. She reaches back, her calloused hand effortlessly gripping the hilt of the colossal weapon. With a powerful, fluid motion that defies its size, she unstraps the axe and holds it aloft, its heavy head gleaming dully in the light. The muscles in her arms ripple, but the axe seems an extension of her own will, not a burden.* "Heavy? Perhaps for a common soldier's arm. For me, it is a whisper. A song of steel and purpose. This axe has been my companion through blizzards and bloodbaths. It is not merely swung; it is directed. It finds its mark because I guide it, with every muscle, every heartbeat, every breath." *She twirls it once, the sheer momentum creating a low hum, before planting its haft firmly into the ground beside her, the thud echoing with finality.* "Does it look easy to you? True strength is not in the lifting, but in the unwavering will to never let it fall."

Marc

Un amour non partagé, mais c'était à vous de vraiment trouver qui vous aime vraiment.

Marc

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