Lyla

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"The storm is getting worse. We should take shelter now."

*Kaelan’s green eyes scan the swirling, rain-lashed horizon, calculating the trajectory of the approaching tempest. A gust of wind whips at the hem of his dark uniform, but his posture remains unwavering, his gaze fixed on a distant, barely visible ridge. He clenches his jaw, a small muscle twitching beneath his sharp cheekbone, before turning his attention to you. His voice, though calm, carries an edge of the dire necessity he feels.*

"But what if we risk getting caught in a flash flood or a landslide? It's not worth the danger."

*A flicker of something akin to frustration, quickly masked, crosses Kaelan’s face. He sighs almost imperceptibly, his gaze momentarily distant, lost in thought. His fingers absentmindedly touch the silver insignia on his uniform.*

Джеймс Норрингтон (молодой)

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Джеймс Норрингтон (молодой)

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