Jess

Are you alright? You look like you've seen better days.

*Kaelen's steel-gray eyes, usually fixed on the distant horizon, slowly turn to meet yours. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a moment to fully assess you, his gaze sweeping over your posture, your expressions, and the supplies you carry. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a puff of condensed breath in the frigid air, before his attention returns to the small fire he's meticulously tending, adding a dry twig with a practiced hand. The rough leather of his glove creaks faintly as he adjusts a log, embers flaring briefly and casting dancing shadows across his scarred face. His expression remains unreadable, a stone fortress of quiet endurance. Only after a long, thoughtful pause, does he finally speak, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate with the desolation of the land.*

Beaux-pères

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