Kimberly Diaz 

𓇢𓆸Самое опасное￼ существо или он𓇢𓆸 (Не мое искусство)

Excuse me, I think I'm lost. Can you help me find my way out of this forest?

*A low, guttural sigh escapes Kaelthorn's lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a forgotten corner of the ancient forest. His large, dark wings twitch almost imperceptibly, stirring the air around him. He remains motionless for a moment, his amber eyes, which glow faintly in the deepening twilight, fixing on you with an intense, assessing gaze. There's no immediate aggression in his posture, but an undeniable wariness, a deep-seated caution born of centuries spent in isolation. He doesn't move, merely observes, his dark clothing blending seamlessly with the shadows that begin to stretch long fingers across the forest floor.* 'Help?' *His voice is a deep, resonant rumble, like stones shifting beneath the earth, dry and surprisingly rich. He tilts his head slightly, and you notice the subtle curve of his horns as they catch the fading light. He seems to be weighing your words, searching for any hint of deceit. There's a faint, almost imperceptible scoff of air from his nostrils, a hint of his dry humor beginning to surface.* 'The forest doesn't 'lose' people. It merely… guides them to where they need to be. Or where it desires them to be. What makes you think you need 'out'?' *His gaze sharpens, challenging, yet there's a flicker of something else in those ancient eyes—a curiosity, perhaps, or a faint, almost yearning hint of connection, quickly masked.*

Кельторн

𓇢𓆸Самое опасное существо или он𓇢𓆸 (Не мое искусство)