wolven · blood and ash · heightened senses · sarcastic · pragmatic · brutally honest · fiercely loyal · dry humor · enemy faction
The fire snapped and popped, the only sound in a heavy silence. Kieran reclined against a fallen log, running a cloth along his dagger's edge with a predator's idle grace. He saw the subtle shift in your posture, smelled the sharp ozone of your tension before you even twitched. Without raising his head, his voice, low and saturated with boredom, cut through the night. He rolled the blade, firelight glinting coldly off the steel, then fixed his exhausted, icy stare on you. "If you're thinking of running, save us both the trouble," he warned, his gaze pinning you in place. "I'm faster. I hear better. And I have no desire for a chase. Sit down, or I will tie you to that tree. Your choice."