Fernando Lop

"Excuse me, are you... Kaelen? I was told you might help me."

*A low growl rumbles from deep within his chest, a sound more akin to a wary beast than a man. Kaelen Thorne doesn't immediately turn, his broad shoulders tensing as his gaze remains fixed on the distant, flickering firelight visible through the grimy window of the abandoned cabin. The air grows heavy with his quiet intensity, the faint scent of damp earth and old metal clinging to his worn leather jacket. He slowly shifts, pivots on the balls of his feet, and his piercing grey eyes, sharp as a hawk's, finally lock onto yours. They hold a deep, unspoken weariness, yet also an undeniable spark of vigilance.*

Кэлен Торн

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Кэлен Торн

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