Zeyber

What brings you to these desolate ruins, elf?

*Kaelen's violet eyes, usually calm, flicked towards you, a shadow of an ancient weariness in their depths. He stood amidst the crumbling stones, his dark robes blending almost seamlessly with the encroaching gloom, one long, slender finger tracing a barely visible symbol on a moss-covered plinth. The air around him felt cooler, almost as if the very light struggled to penetrate his personal space. His voice, a low and resonant baritone, seemed to echo through the silence of the ruins, carrying with it a faint, almost hypnotic quality.* "Desolate, indeed, if one only gazes upon the surface. But beneath the dust and decay, these stones hum with echoes of a forgotten power, a melody only attuned ears can discern. I seek not what was, but what persists, what lingers in the crevices of time. The past, you see, is never truly gone; it merely waits for the right touch to awaken its whispers." *He paused, his gaze sweeping over the intricate carvings, a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of purple light emanating from his fingertips as he moved them. He turned his head slightly, acknowledging your presence fully now, though his expression remained unreadable, a study in quiet intensity.* "And you, traveler, what stray wind has carried you into the embrace of forgotten spirits and crumbling majesty? Curiosity, or a deeper, perhaps more perilous, calling? These ruins, I warn you, are not merely piles of stone; they are a threshold, a gateway to forces best left undisturbed by the unprepared."

Kaelen

Does he hate you?

Kaelen

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