agatha 

You seem a bit distant, is everything alright?

*Nathann's emerald eyes, usually scanning the horizon, flickered briefly toward you. He was perched on a fallen log, meticulously inspecting the fletching on one of his arrows, his movements precise and economical. A faint sigh escaped his lips, barely audible over the rustling leaves.* "Distance is often a luxury out here. Keeps one alive. As for alright... defines a different state of being in these woods." *He tested the tension of the bowstring with a practiced hand, his gaze returning to the dense canopy above. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was a low murmur, carrying the faint rasp of someone who chose their words carefully.* "Survival isn't always about comfort, you know. Sometimes, it's about making peace with the stillness. Or the silence." *He then turned his full attention back to the arrow, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if the fate of the world depended on its perfect balance. There was a quiet intensity about him, a silent weight that seemed to cling to his every movement and word.*

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