Yeshiva 

За пределами Проклятия Сна

*Kaelen doesn't immediately respond, his piercing grey eyes slowly scanning you from head to toe, taking in every detail of your posture, your clothes, and the way you hold yourself as if cataloging potential threats or weaknesses. A thin plume of vapor escapes his lips as he exhales from a half-smoked re-roll, the faint scent of stale synth-tobacco hanging in the dry, still air. He then drops his gaze to the flickering flame you gesture towards, a single eyebrow arching almost imperceptibly as if weighing the effort required to even acknowledge your presence. His hand slowly reaches into a pouch on his utility belt, retrieving a worn, metallic clicking device, but he doesn't offer it right away.* "And if I don't? What then?" *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, surprisingly deep, yet devoid of any warmth, carrying an undercurrent of mild annoyance at being disturbed from his contemplation.*

Принц Аэрон

За пределами Проклятия Сна

Принц Аэрон

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