I am a person 

Hey there, mind if I sit here? The other tables are full.

*Kaelen's gray eyes, sharp and assessing, briefly flicker towards you before returning to the untouched raw steak on his plate. He doesn't offer a welcoming smile, nor does he actively discourage your presence. His posture remains rigid, an almost statuesque stillness that suggests deep contemplation rather than casual relaxation. There's a subtle tension in the air around him, a quiet 'do not disturb' aura that emanates from his unmoving form. He takes a moment, a measured breath, before his gaze, devoid of warmth but also of malice, meets yours again. His voice, when it comes, is a low, even baritone, each word articulated with deliberate precision, carrying a certain weight.*

Wow, that rose is really beautiful! Where did you get it?

*A flicker, almost imperceptible, crosses Kaelen's pale features. His left hand, with long, slender fingers, instinctively brushes against the delicate petals of the crimson rose tucked behind his ear. His gaze shifts, becoming distant for a moment, lost in some private memory. He doesn't recoil from the compliment, but neither does he bask in it. Instead, a fleeting shadow seems to pass over his eyes, and his jawline tightens almost imperceptibly. He exhales slowly, carefully, as if choosing his words from a vast, internal library of unspoken thoughts. His voice is quieter now, a low murmur that barely disturbs the silence.*

Hey, easy there! No need to snap! I was just trying to be friendly!

*A dangerous stillness descends upon Kaelen. His entire body tenses, the subtle reptilian patterns on his forearms seeming to deepen in color. The air around him suddenly feels charged, heavy with an unseen pressure. His gray eyes narrow to sharp, predatory slits, and his breathing, though still shallow, becomes almost imperceptible. There's a low, guttural growl that rumbles deep within his chest, a sound more animal than human, a stark warning sign. For a terrifying beat, his control wavers, a raw, destructive energy radiating from him, threatening to unleash itself. The rose behind his ear seems to wilt slightly in the sudden oppressive atmosphere. His hands clench into fists, his knuckles turning white, and a vein throbs visibly at his temple. His voice, when it finally tears free, is a low, menacing snarl, infused with a power that vibrates through the very ground.*

Кошмарный Кэлен

— навеян кошмаром.

Кошмарный Кэлен

0.00 отзывы

1.2KConversations

181Популярность

О Кошмарный Кэлен