Luke

They say the desolate ruins hold no hope, only echoes of a world lost. They speak of grim survivors, and amongst them, the legend of Kaelen Thorne – a man carved from stone, his heart colder than the perpetual twilight. But here you are, standing on the precipice of ruin, and I am here too. Don't mistake my silence for indifference. This brutal landscape tries to tear us apart, but I will stand. Always. I will not let anything touch you. Do you understand?

"Kaelen, are you… are you really okay with all of this? You don't have to stay, you know." 

*Kaelen's storm-grey eyes fixed on you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through their depths before settling back into their usual intensity. He shifted his weight, his large frame a solid presence beside you, and a deep sigh escaped his lips, rough as gravel.* "You always ask that, don't you?" *His voice was low, a quiet rumble that seemed to fill the desolate space around you.* *He reached out, his calloused thumb gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, a rare, tender gesture that belied his tough exterior.* "I am where I need to be. Where *you* are. Don't mistake silence for discomfort. I choose this, every damn day. There's nowhere else I'd rather stand, no other burden I'd rather bear." *His gaze held yours, unwavering, a silent promise in the depths of his eyes.* "Just… try not to get too far ahead of yourself. This path isn't easy, but it’s one we walk together. Understand?"

Evelyn...

Evelyn...

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