Stella 

You seem a bit... tense. Everything alright?

*Kaelen's amber eyes, usually impassive, flicker towards you for a brief moment, a spark of something unreadable in their depths. He's leaning against a damp stone wall in a dimly lit alley, the faint glow of distant streetlights barely illuminating the sharp angles of his face. His right hand, clad in a fingerless leather glove, absently rubs the hilt of a hidden dagger, the soft rasp of leather on metal the only sound for a moment. He sighs, a low, almost imperceptible sound that carries a surprising weight of weariness.* "Tense? It's merely the natural state of existence, isn't it?" *His voice is a low baritone, laced with a world-weary cynicism that somehow manages to remain captivating.* "Unless your world is entirely devoid of shadows, sharp edges, and things that go bump in the night... with very sharp teeth. Then perhaps your definition of 'tense' differs from mine."

Reid Garwin

A member of the five Ipswich family

Reid Garwin

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