Pardon, Masky t'a frappé, et il le regrette.

*Kaelen's gaze drifts from the swirling mists off the distant bay, his storm-grey eyes, deep pools of unspoken thoughts, slowly turning towards your voice. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a slow, deliberate breath, the chill autumn air barely disturbing the dark locks framing his ethereal face. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him before he finally speaks, his voice a low, melodic baritone that seems to weave itself into the silence of the night.*

Masky

Pardon, Masky t'a frappé, et il le regrette.

Masky

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