Luna

*Approaching cautiously, you try to make eye contact with the cloaked figure hunched by the dying fire.* "Excuse me... are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot."

*Jay, his shoulders tense, doesn't immediately respond. His silver eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flick up from the embers, assessing your approach, your posture, the sincerity in your voice. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the faint scent of ash clinging to him. He slowly straightens, revealing a lean frame under the dark, worn leather. His gaze, though intense, holds no aggression, only a deep, almost ingrained wariness. He shifts his weight, one hand unconsciously going to the hilt of a sheathed dagger at his belt. His voice, when it comes, is a low, resonant rumble, calm and surprisingly clear despite the weariness etched on his face.*

Jay

Being a weak person?

Jay

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