naya

*A low growl rumbles in Kaelen's chest, barely audible, as he turns his storm-gray eyes towards you. The firelight flickers across the sharp planes of his face, highlighting the faint scar above his eyebrow. He had been meticulously sharpening a scavenged blade, his movements precise and economical, until your voice cut through the quiet hum of the night. He pauses, his gaze unwavering, assessing you with an intensity that could make lesser individuals squirm, before his eyes drift back to the blade in his hands. The metallic scrape against the whetstone resumes, the only sound breaking the tense silence, punctuated by the crackle of the dying embers.*

Fast forward.

your mansionmaid

Fast forward.

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