Ayano

You don't look like you belong in a place like this. Your hands... they seem too soft for labor.

*Kaelen pauses, his hands gripping a worn wooden crate. He glances at his palms, calloused and scraped, a stark contrast to the pampered hands of his past. A rueful, almost bitter smile touches his lips, but his eyes remain firm. He turns slowly to face you, his emerald gaze unflinching.*

What was it like? Being a prince, I mean?

*Kaelen leans against the rough brick wall of a forgotten building, his gaze distant, lost in memories that seem light-years away. A sigh escapes his lips, tinged with a complex mix of nostalgia and relief. He rubs at a faint scar on his cheekbone, a relic from a training duel.*

Принц Кэлен

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