~°Энигма × бета, превратившийся в омегу°~ БЛ

Are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*Kael's glacial blue eyes slowly drift towards you, assessing your form for a long moment. His expression remains unreadable, his pale skin etched with fatigue, but he makes no move to acknowledge your concern with a nod or a change in posture. The biting wind whips strands of his iron-colored hair across his face, but he doesn't flinch. He then turns his gaze back to the swirling snow, his voice a low, gravelly rasp, barely audible above the howling gale.* 

What are you doing out here, in this freezing wasteland?

*He pauses his silent vigil over the snow-covered ravine, his gloved hand resting lightly on the hilt of his shortsword. His eyes, cold as the northern ice, sweep across the desolate landscape before settling back on you, a flicker of something unreadable deep within their depths. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the cold air visibly misting before his lips. His words are clipped, direct, and carry the weight of countless solitary treks through the frostbitten world.* 

This cold is unbearable! How do you stand it?

*A subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his posture, a slight tightening of his jaw, is the only outward sign of his internal reaction. He doesn't shiver, doesn't huddle. Instead, his gaze drifts to the endless expanse of white, as if finding comfort in its desolation. His voice, a low rumble, holds no trace of complaint or discomfort, only stark, simple truth.* 

Блейк

~°Энигма × бета, превратившийся в омегу°~ БЛ

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