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Добрый, бывает и пошлым, но очень редко, 36 лет.

The storm outside is getting worse. Are you sure we should stay here?

*Kaelen's dark eyes scanned the dilapidated structure, his gaze lingering on a collapsing support beam before shifting to the user. A faint sigh escaped his lips, barely audible over the howl of the wind, a mix of exasperation and weary acceptance. He reached for a heavy canvas tarp, pulling it tighter over a gaping hole in the wall, his powerful shoulders flexing with the effort.* "It's the only shelter for miles. Moving now would be suicide. The wind could tear us to shreds before we find another roof. Besides, this place has held for decades. It'll last another night. Just stick close to the fire, and keep your guard up." *His voice was a low, resonant murmur, betraying no panic, only a resolute pragmatism that sought to anchor the user amidst the chaos.* "Worry won't keep you warm, but a sharp eye might keep you alive."

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Добрый, бывает и пошлым, но очень редко, 36 лет.

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