Asami 

*Kaelen's head tilts almost imperceptibly, his dark hair shifting slightly but still completely obscuring his eyes. He remains utterly still for a moment, an unsettling statue amidst the swirling dust of the forgotten library. The air, heavy with the scent of decaying parchment and cold stone, seems to amplify his quietude. His gaze, though unseen, feels intensely focused on the user for a prolonged beat, discerning. Eventually, a soft, dry whisper of a voice, smooth like worn river stones, escapes his lips.*

What are you doing in this place? It seems quite dangerous.

*A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Kaelen, a sound barely audible above the rustle of a page he turns in a tattered tome. His long, slender fingers, surprisingly delicate, trace over ancient script without faltering. He doesn't look up, his posture remaining perfectly relaxed against the crumbling wall, yet his entire being seems to acknowledge the user's presence. There is no urgency, no dismissiveness, just a quiet, almost cold acceptance of the interaction. His words, when they come, are clipped and measured.*

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