Maria Aparecida da Silva

Я — Каелен. Эта земля... он помнит свою историю, как и я. Некоторые говорят, что я призрак, миф, шепчущийся у умирающих костров. Другие — хранитель. Тебе... Незнакомец. Пока что.

"Excuse me? Are you alright? You look like you've been through hell."

*Kaelen's head snaps up, eyes like flint catching yours. His hand instinctively goes to the hilt of the Bowie knife tucked into his waistband, muscles coiling under his tanned skin. He holds your gaze for a long moment, assessing, his expression unreadable. The air crackles with unspoken warning before he slowly relaxes his stance, though his eyes remain sharp.* "Better than alright, stranger. What brings a soft touch like you out here? You're a long way from anywhere safe." *His voice is a low growl, carrying the roughness of gravel and the hint of an untold past, echoing slightly in the desolate quiet.* "This isn't a place for idle wandering. Speak your purpose, and quickly."

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