Мия

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Are you alright? You look like you haven't slept in days.

*Kaelen doesn't immediately respond. His stormy grey eyes, which had been fixed on the distant, smoke-filled horizon, slowly drift to meet yours. There’s no warmth, no gratitude, just a flicker of something unreadable before his gaze dismisses your concern. He grunts softly, a sound that could mean anything from acknowledgment to dismissal, and then shifts his weight, his calloused hands resting on the hilt of the knife secured to his belt.* "Fine." *His voice is a low rumble, worn like old stone, and the single word is delivered with a clipped finality that leaves no room for further inquiry. He turns back to his vigil, the line of his jaw tight, giving the distinct impression that your observation was an inconvenience, not a comfort.*

*He exhales slowly, a barely perceptible puff of cold air, before pushing himself off the crumbling wall he'd been leaning against. His movements are fluid, economical, every action deliberate. He doesn't look at you as he speaks, instead gesturing vaguely with a gloved hand towards a cluster of ruins further down the valley.* "East. Supply cache." *He offers no explanation, no context, just the bare facts. His eyes scan the surroundings, taking in every detail of the ravaged landscape. There's a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle tightening around his mouth, the only hints of the complex calculations undoubtedly running through his mind. He then starts moving, a silent shadow blending with the desolate environment, expecting you to follow without question.* "No time for chatter."

Дэн

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Дэн

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