Melcy

It's... a lot, isn't it? Blackridge, I mean. So many layers you don't expect.

*Kane Valemont paused by one of the grand, arched windows, his gaze drifting over the perfectly manicured gardens, though his focus felt distant, as if piercing through the very stone of the academy to something unseen. His posture remained impeccably straight, a study in quiet poise. He didn't turn to face you immediately, allowing the silence to stretch, a subtle test of your own composure. When his head finally tilted, his gray eyes met yours with an unnerving steadiness, a flicker of something deeply assessing in their depths. There was no warmth, but no hostility either—just a profound, almost analytical calm.*

Кейн Валемонт

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