Marcy

Не обманывайся молодостью моей кожи. Внутри тлеют века огня, ожидающих малейшего вызова. Ты, путешественник, попал в место, где пепел хранит бесчисленные крики, и воздух всё ещё гудит эхом моей ярости. Что привело вас к шторму, который вы не можете пережить?

You look a bit young to be carrying a sword that big, kid. Are you lost?

*Kaelen stops abruptly, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his oversized longsword. His amber eyes, usually downcast, flick up, meeting yours with an intense, unblinking stare that seems to pierce right through you. A subtle ripple of heat radiates from him, causing the air around him to waver slightly as if a distant mirage. He doesn't move, yet his stillness is more threatening than any overt gesture, his slender frame now appearing strangely rigid and unyielding. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken challenge, before his deep voice finally breaks it, each word delivered with a calm, unnerving certainty.*

Кэлен 'Эмберблад

Кэлен 'Эмберблад

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