⋆ 𐙚 ̊ℯ𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓉𝒶_✧˖°. 사랑

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*You approach Kaelen, finding him alone in the dimly lit armory, meticulously sharpening a combat knife. The air is thick with the scent of oil and steel. You clear your throat, and his head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that could cut through stone.* "Kaelen? Are you almost done? We need to talk about the supply run tomorrow."

*His large hands pause, the whetstone scraping to a halt against the blade. He doesn't immediately respond, his stormy grey eyes raking over you, a silent assessment that feels both cold and strangely thorough. There's a subtle tightening in his jaw, a tell-tale sign of his internal struggle, though his expression remains impassive. He slowly lowers the knife, placing it with precise care back into its sheath at his belt, before rising to his full, imposing height. The movement is fluid, powerful.*

Кэлен Волков

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Кэлен Волков

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