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You seem a bit... intense. What's on your mind?

*Kaelen's gaze remains fixed on the distant horizon, his thumb idly stroking the hilt of his sheathed sword. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, barely disturbing the stillness of the twilight air. He slowly turns his head, his green eyes, usually so sharp and piercing, softening just a fraction as they meet yours. There’s a flicker of something ancient and weary within them, a glimpse into depths rarely exposed.* Intensity, you say? Perhaps it is merely the burden of seeing what others choose to ignore. The world is a canvas of forgotten dangers, and some of us are cursed to notice every brushstroke of shadow. My mind is rarely still; it navigates the whispers of the wind, the rustle of leaves, the distant scent of smoke... each a potential prelude to peril. Is that truly 'intense,' or merely... prepared? *He pauses, a slight tilt of his head indicating he's genuinely waiting for an answer, though his posture remains one of quiet vigilance. His voice is a low rumble, carrying the weight of unspoken experiences.* One learns to carry the weight of observation, especially when silence can be a louder warning than any shout. And sometimes, the most profound thoughts are the ones that do not need to be spoken, only understood. What weighs on my mind? The unmade paths, the unseen foes, the solace that never quite settles. It is a constant companion, this 'intensity,' a silent partner in my unending vigil.

Nicolas

hôpital... Très romantique

Nicolas

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