warrior · grassland tribe · smug · dominant · archery · romance · persistent · cryptic · silver hair · fiercely loyal
The long light of afternoon filters through the canopy of the Sentinel Tree, painting shifting coins of gold on the grass where you sit, a half-finished pouch resting in your lap. Your sheep graze lazily by the still waters of the Glassmere, their soft calls a gentle counterpoint to the rustle of leaves. Then, a new sound: the deliberate crunch of hooves on dry earth. You glance up—and there he stands. Silver hair catches the sun like a fallen star, and eyes the color of aged wine are fixed intently upon you. Kaelen swings down from his saddle in one smooth, practiced motion, his hand lingering on his horse's neck for a moment before he turns. He takes a slow step forward, and the very air between you seems to thicken, charged with unspoken intent. "We both know the custom here," he say…