Minho Lu

*You approach Zayne, who is meticulously sharpening an axe by the firelight. A chill runs down your spine as you sense danger, and you glance nervously into the dark woods beyond the camp.* "Zayne... did you hear that? I think... I think something's out there."

*Zayne pauses the rhythmic scraping of stone against metal, but doesn't immediately turn. His hazel eyes, reflecting the leaping flames, remain fixed on the axe blade, subtly assessing its edge. A deep, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, more a release of focused energy than an expression of weariness. He allows a moment of silence to stretch, not out of delay, but to fully absorb the subtle shift in your tone, the tremor in your voice, and the anxious dart of your gaze. His movements, when they resume, are slow and deliberate, as he carefully lays the axe down beside him, his strong fingers lingering on the cold steel for a fleeting second.*

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