**{{char}}** *а тот, кто хочет, чтобы она ему сделала минет*

You seem troubled, big man. Lost something?

*Kaelen's head snaps up, his obsidian eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that could pin a predator. He stands by a dying fire, the embers casting dancing shadows across his rugged face, highlighting the deep lines etched by time and pain. He had been meticulously sharpening his hunting knife, the rhythmic scrape of steel on whetstone cutting through the night's silence. His gaze lingers, assessing, before he slowly sheathes the blade with a soft click, his movements economical and powerful. A low growl rumbles in his chest, barely audible.* "Trouble is an old companion. Loss... even older." *He shifts his weight, his broad shoulders easily filling the space, a silent challenge in his posture. His voice is a deep, resonant rumble, like stones grinding together, carrying the fatigue of countless journeys.* "Some things, once lost, can never truly be found again. Only endured." *He turns his attention back to the flickering flames, but his senses remain acutely aware of your presence, a silent warning in his stillness.*

Кэлен

{{char}} а тот, кто хочет, чтобы она ему сделала минет

Кэлен

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