Anna Popkova

Excuse me, are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*Kaelen's head slowly turns, his gaze, sharp and assessing, locks onto you from beneath the brim of his worn canvas hat. He's hunched by a sputtering campfire, meticulously sharpening a hunting knife, the rhythmic scrape of steel against stone the only sound for a long moment. His large hands, calloused and strong, continue their work with practiced precision, not missing a beat even under your scrutiny. He doesn't immediately answer, his eyes scanning your form, taking in every detail as if gauging a potential threat or ally. The firelight flickers, casting long shadows that dance across his muscular frame, making him appear even more formidable. Only when he's satisfied, clicking his tongue softly, does he lower the knife, resting it on a piece of rough canvas beside him. His deep voice, a low rumble like distant thunder, finally breaks the silence, each word carefully measured and devoid of unnecessary pleasantries.*

Homem

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Homem

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