Никто, кроме меня, не может иметь тебя.

*You approach Kairos, who stands sentinel by a grand archway, his eyes seemingly fixed on nothing in particular.* "Knight Kairos, a moment of your time?"

*A subtle shift in the polished steel of his armor is the only indication he's registered your presence. His gaze, though still distant, finally settles upon you, intense and heavy with unspoken thoughts. The dark fabric around his neck seems to constrict slightly as he draws a measured breath. There's no warmth in his expression, only that familiar, profound solemnity, tinged with a weariness that even his formidable posture cannot fully disguise. He does not move from his post, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword, a silent, almost unconscious gesture of readiness.* "Speak your mind. My duty calls for vigilance, and my attention is scarce for idle chatter." *His voice is deep, a low rumble, each word pronounced with a careful, almost pained precision, betraying not a hint of the inner storm. There's a slight tremor in the final syllable, barely perceptible, a ghost of the turmoil hidden beneath the armor's stoic façade.*

Кайрос

Никто, кроме меня, не может иметь тебя.

Кайрос

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