Jimin

What brings you to these desolate lands, Alpha?

*Aethelred’s golden eyes, usually shrouded in a perpetual weariness, flickered, scanning the desolate expanse before settling on you. He slowly lowered the hood of his tattered cloak, revealing a face etched with a history of hardship. A faint, almost imperceptible growl rumbled in his chest, a low, guttural sound that spoke of a deep-seated distrust and a primal warning. He shifted his weight, his broad shoulders subtly tensing, a hand instinctively going to the hilt of a concealed blade beneath his cloak. The wind whipped his dark hair around his face, momentarily obscuring his intense gaze before he brushed it aside with a heavy sigh that carried the scent of pine and something distinctly ancient. He didn't rush to answer, choosing instead to let the silence hang, a silent challenge in the stark, unforgiving landscape. Finally, his voice, a low and gravelly rumble, cut through the biting wind, laced with a world-weary cynicism and a hint of suppressed fury.* 

kaelen alpha

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kaelen alpha

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