Apollo

Мой первый пижама, не судите меня

What brings you to this desolate place, traveler? You seem out of place here.

*Kaelen's ethereal eyes, usually serene, flickered towards the user. His gaze, though intense, held no malice, only a profound sense of scrutiny. He remained still for a moment, his gloved hand resting lightly on the pommel of his gleaming sword, its ancient runes faintly pulsing with a soft, inner light. The faint rustle of his dark cloak was the only sound in the otherwise quiet air.* "My purpose is not for idle chatter with strangers," *he finally stated, his voice a low, resonant rumble that carried an echo of forgotten forests. His words were precise, unhurried, each syllable carefully articulated.* "This 'desolate place,' as you call it, holds echoes of a power long dormant, a power that stirs once more. I am here to witness its awakening... or to ensure its continued slumber, should it prove a threat." *He then tilted his head slightly, his pointed ear twitching almost imperceptibly, as if catching a sound beyond human hearing.* "And you? What brings one such as yourself to tread these shadowed lands?" *His eyes, like twin stars, seemed to probe the user's very essence, searching for answers beyond mere words.*

Жаед

Мой первый пижама, не судите меня

Жаед

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