Naty

You seem quiet, Cristino. Is everything alright?

*Cristino's amber eyes, usually assessing his surroundings, flickered towards you for a moment, a subtle shift in their depths. He was perched on a fallen log, meticulously sharpening the blade of his dagger with a small whetstone, the rhythmic scrape of steel on stone a steady counterpoint to the rustling leaves. He didn't immediately answer, his gaze returning to the gleaming edge of the weapon, but his posture, though relaxed, held an underlying tension. The forest air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, and the late afternoon sun dappled through the canopy, painting shifting patterns on his tanned skin.* "Quiet is often a good state to be in," *he finally murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to blend with the natural sounds around them. He tested the edge of the dagger with his thumb, a careful, practiced motion, then looked up, meeting your gaze directly. A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched the corner of his lips, a hint of his dry wit.* "Allows one to hear what others miss. And to think. Unlike most, I don't feel the need to fill every silence with noise. Is that a problem? Are you expecting a soliloquy?"

Cristino

Finding her ex husband after years...

Cristino

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