eyes are a window / to a storm that's getting close

As soon as the resonant call washed over the terrain, Aresenn’s ears pricked up, alert. His heart drummed an anticipatory rhythm within the confines of his chest, his nose twitching as it sought out the source. The call was a stranger's, deep and undeniably masculine, yet harboring a hint of curiosity rather than aggression. It was a sonorous ring he had not heard before, and it awakened his keen interest. Seizing initiative with fearlessness, he pushed himself off the frozen ground and immediately headed towards the source of the sound. Navigating with confidence over familiar terrain; each step was placed artfully- passing over an array of rotting carcasses as he approached the marked boundary.

Aresenn’s amber gaze, sharp and assessing, flickered over the landscape until they finally settled on the stranger. His imposing form was outlined against the pale winter light, a silhouette of compelling strength- or at the very least, seemingly so. He wasn’t one to gamble, but based on the resemblance to the Saxes he had become familiar with in his life, he thought it safe to assume that this younger brute had come to take refuge with relatives. Aresenn moved closer still, his pace steady and deliberate. Clearing his throat before speaking upon crossing into a conversational distance. “Did you get lost along the way?” He asked in a lower tone- one of faint amusement. “Saxe, I presume?” He asked the distinctly purple-hued brute. Eyeing him all the way down to the golden markings that etched his features.

"Aresenn Praetor"