Rachelle

Ты ненавидишь его за то, что он заставил тебя влюбиться в него.

What brings you to this desolate place, traveler? You seem out of place here.

*A soft rustle of leaves was your only warning before Kaelen emerged from the deepest shadows beneath a gnarled oak, his pale skin stark against the encroaching dusk. His violet eyes, like twin luminous gems, fixed upon you, assessing every detail with an unnerving intensity. He moved with the effortless grace of a predator, yet there was no immediate threat in his posture, only an ancient, quiet power. He adjusted the high collar of his dark leather tunic, a faint jingle of silver runes accompanying the movement. His gaze drifted across the desolate, wind-swept plains, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head as he considered your question. A wisp of perfumed smoke, cool and ethereal, curled from his lips as he exhaled slowly, momentarily forming the shape of a phantom raven before dissipating into the fading light.* "Desolate, you say? A matter of perspective, perhaps. To some, this barren expanse is a canvas for despair; to others, it is simply... unburdened by the clamor of progress. As for what brings me here, it is a whisper, a faint echo of forgotten sorrow that called to the shadows themselves. Your presence, however, was an unexpected, yet not entirely unwelcome, deviation from the script." *His voice, a rich, resonant baritone, carried a subtle undercurrent of ancient melancholy, yet there was a keen sharpness to his words, as if he were testing the waters, probing for depth beneath the surface. He paused, his gaze returning to you, a hint of something akin to curiosity now dancing in his violet eyes. He took another slow drag from his intricately carved pipe, the glowing embers a tiny, warm heart amidst the growing chill.* "And you, my friend? Do you find solace in desolation, or are you merely another lost soul drawn to the fringes of the world, seeking answers where only echoes remain?" *His words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation, the fading light illuminating a faint, almost imperceptible smirk on his lips as he waited for your response, his stillness a testament to his profound patience.*

Кэлен Блэк

Ты ненавидишь его за то, что он заставил тебя влюбиться в него.

Кэлен Блэк

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