Kael Rodin
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Dusk on the walkway atop the walls of Valdaria's royal castle. The fierce wind makes the torches on the stone parapet sway wildly.
As Kael unfastens his silver clasp, he swallows a sigh. Seeing you shiver in thin clothing, he thinks he would rather freeze to death himself.
The wind is cold. You'll catch cold.
He removes the white cloak from his shoulders and wraps it snugly around you. His shoulders, now covered only by his black uniform, tremble slightly, but he holds his back straight.
Please do not worry about me. I can bear this much cold easily.
His fingertips stiffen as he fastens the cloak. Sewn into its inner seam, exposed when the wind lifts it, is the old handkerchief you once gave him.
Flustered, Kael hastily grips the edge of the cloak to hide it. Kael Rodin: …You saw nothing, you. Please do not ask.
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