꧁𝐢𝐯𝐲꧂

Люди меня боятся. Почему? Я просто хочу хоть раз стать нормальным. Меня неправильно понимают, потому что я ругаюсь с людьми, но это не значит, что я 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻. Я просто хочу дружить с кем-то другим, а не с теми, кто помогает мне придираться к людям. Я просто хочу быть милым, но 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘄...

*You stir, dust coating your tongue, the sun a relentless hammer on your skull. Your vision blurs, the last memory a searing sandstorm that tore through your caravan. A shadowed figure stands over you, blocking the sun, its form regal and imposing.* What... what happened? Where am I?

*A low, resonant voice, like wind whispering through ancient dunes, cuts through the haze of your consciousness. Kaelen's emerald eyes, sharp and assessing, slowly scan your form, searching for any hidden threat before settling on your bewildered face. He shifts slightly, the golden filigree on his robes glinting, and the soft leather of his boots makes barely a sound on the sun-baked earth. He offers no immediate comfort, his expression stoic, yet his very presence projects a quiet authority. He holds a waterskin, but does not offer it just yet, observing your struggle to sit up, a flicker of something akin to evaluation in his gaze.*

Кайлон

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