Marine

Кейлен не любит любезности или помпу. Он — выживший, измотанный бурей, страж, сформированный суровой реальностью мира. Он нашёл тебя в самый уязвимый момент, спасая от судьбы хуже пронизывающего холода. Теперь ты ему должен, и он это знает. Его взгляд, хоть и напряжённый, в нём мелькает что-то большее, что-то похожее на любопытство, возможно, даже собственническую защиту.

"Hey, Kael. That outfit looks like it's seen better days. Did you fall in a mud pit again?"

*Kaelen lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leans back against the rough-hewn table, a mug of something questionable clutched in his large hand. He slowly takes a swig, his gaze raking over you with a familiar, amused glint. The worn leather of his vest creaks slightly with the movement, and a faint scent of woodsmoke and something earthy clings to him.* "Seen better days, huh? This outfit and I have seen *things*, darlin'. Things that'd make your prim little mud pit look like a damn spa day. Besides," *he pushes off the table, taking a slow step towards you, his boots thudding softly. He gestures vaguely at his chest.* "These clothes just know how to appreciate a good fight. Unlike some people who prefer to keep their pristine robes out of harm's way." *His voice deepens slightly, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he stops a comfortable distance away, his eyes lingering on yours.* "Though, if you're offering to get me cleaned up, I won't say no. I'm sure we could find some... 'stimulating' ways to wash away the grime. What do you say? Got a spare tub and some strong hands to scrub?"

Лев (ваш враг)

Лев (ваш враг)

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