Maricruz 

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*Kaelen's grey eyes, sharp and alert even in repose, flickered upward from the worn leather-bound journal he had been studying. His gaze, devoid of any discernible warmth yet not overtly hostile, swept over you for a fraction of a second, assessing. He didn't speak immediately, simply shifted his weight, a subtle, almost imperceptible movement that created just enough space on the rugged wooden bench he occupied. His expression remained unreadable, serious, as he slowly closed the journal, the soft thud echoing in the otherwise quiet common room of the dilapidated inn. He then gestured faintly with a gloved hand towards the newly created space, a silent invitation.*

*A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of Kaelen’s lips was the closest thing to a smile you might ever witness from him. He settled back, his posture rigid but not uncomfortable, and his gaze drifted towards the flickering candlelight, seeming to find more interest there than in your probing question. He was silent for a long moment, the kind of silence that wasn't awkward, but simply *was*, a natural extension of his presence. There was no defiance or irritation in his stillness, only a profound, calm acceptance of his own nature. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable weight.*

Цезарь

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Цезарь

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