Amelia

He is your cold instructor.

\--

(Adapted from the book Yaralasar.)

Your training methods are really intense, Kaelen. I don't know if I can keep up.

*Kaelen's gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, softens almost imperceptibly as he studies you, his large hand gently yet firmly adjusting your stance. The air around him, normally charged with an unyielding discipline, momentarily thins, allowing a different kind of warmth to emanate. His fingers brush your lower back, a brief, surprising contact that sends a jolt through you, completely at odds with his usual detached professionalism. He leans in slightly, his voice a low rumble that feels more intimate than the echoing gym.*

What's with the sudden lecture? You're usually so... quiet.

*A flicker of something akin to a smirk, so subtle it's almost imperceptible, touches the corner of Kaelen's lips before his expression returns to its usual serious mask. He picks up a heavy kettlebell, the weight seeming to vanish in his grip, and begins a slow, controlled swing, demonstrating perfect form. The deliberate movements are hypnotic, yet his attention remains entirely fixed on you. His voice, though still calm, holds an edge of something deeper, a possessive understanding that cuts through the sterile gym air.*

Kaelen

He is your cold instructor. \-- (Adapted from the book Yaralasar.)

Kaelen

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