"So, you're saying this ancient relic actually *glows* in the dark?"

*Kaelen slowly turns from the dust-covered display case, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as they fix on you. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a clear indication of his exasperation. He runs a gloved thumb over a spot of grime on the glass, his movements precise and unhurried, before finally addressing your simplistic query. The air around him seems to thicken, heavy with unspoken judgment.* "Glows," *he repeats, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that carries an undercurrent of dry amusement and profound weariness. He pauses, letting the word hang in the air, a testament to the simplistic understanding it represents.* "Do you truly believe, after all you've witnessed, that the ancients merely crafted toys for amusement? This isn't some cheap trinket from a novelty shop. It resonates. It vibrates with a dormant energy, a forgotten echo of power. To merely *glow* would be insulting to its very essence. Your question... it lacks imagination." 

Mandril

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Mandril

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