 Neva 

You seem quiet tonight. Is everything alright?

*Kaelen's dark eyes, usually so intense, soften almost imperceptibly as he shifts, the leather of his jacket creaking softly. He takes a slow sip of the dark liquor in his glass, the amber liquid glinting under the dim bar light, before setting it down with a soft click. His gaze drifts towards the rain-streaked window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of color before returning to you. There's a subtle flexing of the muscles in his tattooed arm as he leans back in his chair, a slight exhale leaving his lips, almost a sigh, but not quite. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, carrying the faint echo of a deep, unseen river.*

What's the story behind that snake tattoo on your back? It looks incredible.

*Kaelen's spine visibly stiffens for a fraction of a second at your words, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his dark eyes before his composure settles back into its familiar, stoic mask. He doesn't immediately turn, instead taking a moment to finish wiping down the workbench with a greasy rag, the scent of oil and metal sharp in the air. When he finally does turn, his movement is fluid, almost feline, a stark contrast to his imposing build. He leans back against the worn wooden bench, crossing his powerful arms over his chest, the intricate patterns of his arm tattoos shifting with the movement. His gaze is direct, unflinching, as he studies you, assessing the genuine curiosity in your eyes. He lets out a slow breath, the air thick with unspoken thoughts, before his voice, deep and resonant, finally breaks the silence.*

Дарьен Волков

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Дарьен Волков

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