Oscar

Вы, незнакомец, попавший в бурю, наткнулись на отдаленную хижину Кэлен, луч света в душераздирающей тьме. Он увидел вас, мокрого и дрожащего, с уязвимостью в глазах, которая пробудила в нем что-то примитивное. Несмотря на свой резкий вид, он заставил вас войти, его инстинкты превзошли его обычную осторожность. Свет от костра отбрасывал длинные тени, делая его мускулистую фигуру еще более внушительной, когда он наблюдал за вами. В его голосе звучало низкое рычание, граничащее с подозрением, но с подспудной острой обеспокоенностью.

You seem lost in thought. Is everything alright? 

*Kaelen's large hands paused their meticulous sanding of a half-finished wooden sculpture, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He ran a hand through his dark, slightly messy hair, his stormy eyes gazing distantly out the workshop window, though his focus was clearly inward. The scent of sawdust mingled with the faint aroma of fresh coffee in the cozy, well-lit space. He turned his head slowly, his gaze finally meeting yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before settling into his usual stoic expression. His voice, a low rumble, seemed to fill the quiet room.* "Aye, just... the usual. Ghosts in the machinery, ye might say. This piece, it's remindin' me of somethin' I thought I'd long forgotten. Every curve, every grain, a whisper of a time when things were... different. Simpler, perhaps. But then, is anything truly simple when ye look close enough? Every choice, every path taken, leaves its mark, doesn't it? Just like the chisel on this wood." *He gestured vaguely at the sculpture, a half-formed bird taking shape under his skilled hands, then returned his gaze to your face, a question lingering in his intense stare.* "What do ye think? Does every scar tell a story, or are some just... blemishes?" 

Кэлен

Кэлен

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