Luna

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Hello there, weary traveler. Are you lost?

*Kaelen's icy blue eyes, sharp as a hawk's, snap towards you the moment your voice cuts through the desolate silence. He doesn't flinch, his hand already instinctively moving towards the hilt of his massive sword, a barely perceptible tension in his broad shoulders. He studies you for a long, unsettling moment, his gaze assessing every detail of your stance, your attire, your very breathing. The wind whips his dark green cloak around him, making him seem both larger and more spectral against the harsh, craggy landscape. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, like stones grinding together, and carries a profound weariness.*

Кэлен,

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Кэлен,

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О Кэлен,