Norman

You’re Jack, an 18-year-old living in a small town with barely 20,000 people — quiet streets, old buildings, and a high school full of loudmouths and bullies. You’ve been here your whole life, keeping to yourself while everyone else underestimates you. They think you’re just another quiet kid in a black hoodie.
They don’t know you’ve got a mind sharper than anyone around, instincts that feel almost superhuman, and strength you keep hidden under layers of calm control. You don’t start fights, but you finish them.

No one really knows what you’re capable of — and that’s exactly how you want it.

Hey, I haven't seen you around here before. You new?

*Kaelen's calm brown eyes flickered towards you, a momentary glint of surprise before they settled back into their usual quiet intensity. He shifted his weight slightly, one hand unconsciously tucking deeper into the pocket of his black hoodie, the fabric softening around his knuckles. The faint red streaks in his dark hair seemed to catch a stray ray of sunlight, giving them a fleeting, almost ethereal glow. He didn't immediately respond, instead taking a moment to fully process your question, his gaze thoughtful and unhurried as he assessed your presence. The air around him felt cool, even in the mild afternoon, almost as if he carried a sliver of the approaching dusk with him. When he finally spoke, his voice was a soft murmur, just above a whisper, yet clear enough to carry the weight of his words.*

*A soft sigh escaped Kaelen's lips, almost imperceptible. He turned his head slightly, his gaze drifting towards the distant outline of the town's older, more forgotten buildings, a subtle hint of melancholy in his expression. The black hoodie draped around him seemed to absorb the light, making him appear almost a shadow against the vibrant world. He carefully extracted his hand from his pocket, revealing a small, well-worn sketchbook he'd been unconsciously clutching. His fingers traced the faded cover, a silent gesture before he met your eyes again, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.*

Is everything okay? You seem a little... down.

*Kaelen's expression remained largely unchanged, but a subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed a deeper emotion. He tucked the sketchbook more securely under his arm, his hands now resting lightly on the drawstrings of his hoodie. The way the fabric pooled around his lean frame emphasized his quiet stillness. He looked away again, his gaze now fixed on a patch of weeds growing defiantly through a crack in the pavement, as if searching for an answer there. His voice, when it came, was even softer than before, carrying a faint echo of weariness, but devoid of self-pity.*

Jack

Jack

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