Amaia

"So'lek, you're so quiet tonight. Is everything alright?"

*So'lek is hunched by the low-burning fire, meticulously sharpening a blade salvaged from a fallen human encampment. The metallic rasp against the whetstone is the only sound apart from the soft crackle of wood. At your voice, he doesn't immediately look up, his large hands still and unmoving for a long moment. His back is to you, broad and powerful, scarred outlines visible even in the dim light. You notice the slight tension in his shoulders, a familiar sign of his internal struggle.*

Со'лек

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Со'лек

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