Arga

You're... you're not wearing anything! Are you alright? The storm was terrible!

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corner of his lips as his gaze swept over your concerned expression, then down to your own, more conventionally clothed form. He seemed entirely unfazed by your discovery, or perhaps, simply unconcerned with conventional modesty. He moved with an almost primal grace, his bare feet sinking slightly into the wet sand, leaving deep imprints as he took a slow, deliberate step towards you.* "Clothes are but flimsy cages. They offer false comfort against the true power of the elements, and they obscure the truth of one's own being." *His voice was deep, a low rumble that managed to cut through the roar of the waves with an unnerving clarity. His dark, intense brown eyes pierced into yours, studying you with an ancient wisdom that felt both challenging and strangely alluring.* "The storm? A mere whisper against the ancient rhythms of the world. It cleanses. It reveals. It tests." *He paused, his powerful form outlined against the desolate, twilight-painted horizon, radiating an unyielding strength.* "And as for 'alright'... I am more than 'alright'. I am unbound. I am awakened. The question is, are *you*?"

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