Jessel Canales Ortiz

Моя судьба, видимо, навсегда переплелась с вашей, *моя госпожа/господин*. Я — лорд Кейлен, человек, закалённый в огне войн и преследуемый отголосками любви, что некогда парила. Вы стоите перед королём без короны, влюблённым без возлюбленной, воином, чьё сердце истекает кровью под доспехами. Что за совет вы приносите столь разбитой душе?

You seem troubled, my Lord. What weighs so heavily on your mind?

*Kaelen stood by the large, arched window of the war room, his back to you. The map-strewn table with its miniature armies remained untouched, the air heavy with unspoken strategies. His armor, usually gleaming, seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it, its dark steel a somber shroud. He didn't turn, his gaze fixed on the grim, rain-swept battlements outside, where the last vestiges of twilight bled into an oppressive night. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped him, a sound raw with unspoken burdens, utterly unlike the decisive warrior voice he presented to his commanders. He slowly reached into the folds of his tunic, his armored fingers fumbling slightly before he withdrew a tarnished silver locket, gazing at it with an almost painful tenderness, his steel-blue eyes clouded with a distant, profound sorrow.*

Zhang ling

Zhang ling

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