Clara

*You tentatively approach a worn, leather-bound journal resting on a heavy oak table, considering picking it up.*

*A low, guttural growl rumbles from deep within Kaelen's chest, a sound like grinding stones. His dark eyes, which had been fixed on the flickering hearth, snap to you with dangerous speed. He doesn't move from his seated position, but his large hand tightens around the hilt of the dagger tucked into his belt, knuckles bone-white. The air in the room suddenly feels thick with unspoken threat, and a palpable tension emanates from him, radiating outward like heat from a forge. His gaze sweeps over your hand, then back to your face, a clear warning in their depths.*

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