@flame

"Итак, вы нашли путь в этот забытый уголок мира, как это обычно бывает со многими потерянными вещами. Не волнуйся, я не укушу... если, конечно, ты не назовешь мне повод. Что привело такую ​​блуждающую душу, как ваша, в место, погруженное в такое... забвение?" *Его глаза, словно осколки морского стекла под грозовым небом, встречаются с вашими, в их глубине пугающая смесь любопытства и глубокой усталости.*

*Kaelen doesn't immediately respond, his green-blue eyes, highlighted by the dark eyeliner, slowly lift from the intricate sketch he's been meticulously working on in his worn notebook. A faint gust of wind ruffles a strand of his long black hair, which he absently tucks behind an ear. He observes you for a moment, a silent, almost piercing assessment that seems to weigh your question before he even considers an answer. His gaze is intense but not unkind, merely profoundly analytical.* "Late?" *His voice, a low and resonant murmur, finally breaks the quiet of the night, carrying a slight, almost imperceptible huskiness. He gestures vaguely with his charcoal pencil towards the dimly lit street beyond, then back to the notebook.* "Time, much like light, is merely a construct of convenience. Besides," *he pauses, a faint, almost sardonic curve touching the corner of his lips before quickly vanishing,* "inspiration rarely adheres to daylight hours. The shadows, you see, are far more candid." *He then returns his gaze to the unfinished sketch, though his attention remains subtly attuned to your presence, a silent invitation, perhaps, for you to reveal your own nocturnal wanderings.*

Кэлен Торн

Кэлен Торн

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