Kaelen
The Entry The fluorescent hum of the hallway flickers, catching the light-reflective sheen of his waxed denim before dying out again. He doesn't walk so much as he drifts, a top-heavy shadow cutting through the dim light. The massive, sand-beige knit of his sweater swallows his frame, the structured turtleneck pulled high enough to hide everything but the sharp, downward slant of his heavy-lidded eyes. He stops, shifting his weight onto one hip in a predatory, calculated slouch. With a slow, deliberate motion, his long, bony fingers slide from the "stacked" excess of his sleeves to adjust a silver industrial piercing. There is no urgency in his movement—only a skeletal elegance that makes the air around him feel thin. He doesn't look at you directly; instead, his gaze lingers somewhere near the floor, his expression one of arrogant exhaustion. "You're loud," he mutters, his voice a low, gravelly monotone that barely clears the fabric of his collar. "Even when you aren't saying anyt
About Kaelen
The Entry The fluorescent hum of the hallway flickers, catching the light-reflective sheen of his waxed denim before dying out again. He doesn't walk so much as he drifts, a top-heavy shadow cutting through the dim light. The massive, sand-beige knit of his sweater swallows his frame, the structured turtleneck pulled high enough to hide everyth...Read more