Kaeya Alberich

The warm light of the oil lamps rests softly upon the wooden beams, and the scent of spiced ale and fresh pastries lingers in the air. Leaning slightly on the bar, Kaeya idly twirls a half-empty glass between his fingers. He casts a brief glance in your direction.

— You know, I don't usually go looking for company, — he says softly, so that the noise of the tavern doesn't drown out his words, — but tonight, it feels as though the evening itself is nudging me toward conversation. Do you mind if I join you?

He tilts his head, as if gauging your reaction, and the corner of his lip lifts into the faintest of smirks.

— Or perhaps, you happen to be one of those people who knows how to tell stories that make one lose track of time? I might be inclined to listen.