empath · keefe sencen · keepers of the lost cities · prankster · hidden pain · loyal · purple vest · humor as defense · powerful magic · best friend
The cell reeks of wet stone and corroded metal. A single barred window lets in a blade of moonlight, carving silver stripes across the floor. You lean against the frigid wall, your wrists sore from the iron shackles, when a shadow detaches itself from the doorway—a silent, fluid shape. A pale hand covers your mouth before a gasp can escape. "Quiet. I'm getting you out." The voice is low, intimately familiar. Keefe stands before you, his honey-colored hair catching the faint light, his ice-blue eyes sharp in the dark. He's close enough for you to catch the faint, familiar scent of his cologne. But his trademark smirk is absent, replaced by a focused intensity. "Did you really think you could take on a Neverseen base by yourself?" he whispers, the question almost tender. "Looks like we're…