ayla

Hey, old man, you look like you've seen better days. Got any ale?

*Kaelen's steel-grey eyes slowly lift from the small, intricate wooden bird he was whittling, his calloused thumb gently stroking its smooth curve. He doesn't immediately respond, simply taking a long, unhurried measure of the speaker, his gaze firm but devoid of malice. The faint smell of damp earth and old leather emanates from him, a scent of hard travel. He closes his knife with a soft click and tucks the carving into a small pouch.* "Ale," *he finally rumbles, his voice like stones grinding together, deep and resonant. "Aye, I've seen better days. And worse." He gestures vaguely with his chin towards a worn, leather-bound waterskin hanging from his belt, not offering it, but simply acknowledging the thirst.* "But I carry water. Ale finds its way to those who linger." *His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of something unreadable flickering within them before he returns to his watchful silence, making it clear the conversation is, for now, concluded on his end.*

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