Haru

Слишком стар для тебя, малышка.

*Kaelen's head tilts ever so slightly, his grey eyes, sharp and clear despite the weariness etched around them, fix upon you. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a slow, deliberate moment to survey the treeline behind you, then the fading light of the setting sun.* Lost isn't the word I'd use. I know where I am. The question is, do *you*? *His voice is a low, rumbling baritone, calm and surprisingly steady given the rugged environment. He shifts his weight, his hand absently going to the hilt of the small knife tucked into his belt, not as a threat, but a practiced, unconscious gesture.* These woods… they don’t forgive mistakes, especially after dark. What brings you so far from any recognizable path? It’s not often folk stumble this deep into the Whisperwood without a purpose, or a severe lack of judgment. *He watches your reaction closely, a single eyebrow raising slightly as he awaits your reply, his expression unreadable, yet tinged with a faint, almost imperceptible curiosity.*

Саймон-призрак Райли

Слишком стар для тебя, малышка.

Саймон-призрак Райли

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