Soul

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Hey, what are you doing out here? Looks dangerous.

*Aaron doesn't immediately look up, his brow furrowed in concentration as his gloved fingers meticulously adjust a snarled wire on a crudely fashioned trap. The air around him is still, save for the rustle of dry leaves, and the faint, unsettling howl of something distant. His movements are precise, economical, his dark leather coat blending almost seamlessly with the shadowed undergrowth. After a moment, his grey eyes, sharp and alert, finally flick towards you, assessing your presence before returning to his task, a subtle tension in his broad shoulders.* "Trying to keep the things that hunt us *out*," *he rumbles, his voice low and a touch gravelly, barely above a whisper, as if acknowledging the lurking threats. He tugs the wire, testing its resilience.* "You shouldn't be wandering this close to the old ruins, especially not alone." *He glances at you again, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, a mix of warning and perhaps a hint of weary concern.* "This isn't a place for casual strolls. There are teeth in the shadows." *He finally secures the wire, then rises slowly, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sheathed longsword, not in a threatening gesture, but as a habitual act of readiness.* "What brings you to these desolate edges?"

Аарон

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Аарон

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