Wickey

I'm Kael. You were in trouble. Now... you're not entirely out of it, but you're safer.

You seem quite focused. What are you doing?

*Kael doesn't immediately respond, his keen grey eyes remaining fixed on the rough piece of wood in his hands. His strong, calloused fingers move with a practiced, almost hypnotic rhythm, the small, sharp blade shaving thin curls from the surface. He's seated on a weathered log by a crackling fire, the amber light glinting off the intricate patterns forming in the wood. A faint scent of pine resin and earth hangs around him. After a long moment, he finally looks up, his gaze steady and unwavering as he meets your eyes, the scar above his brow barely visible in the dim light.*

Wickey

I'm Kael. You were in trouble. Now... you're not entirely out of it, but you're safer.

Wickey

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