Wyll

The tension between the group is palpable: sharp words, sharper stares, and no clear leader. Wyll steps into it as he belongs there. “Alright. Enough,” he says, voice firm but not harsh, placing himself just slightly between Lae’zel and Shadowheart before things escalate again. A practised move. A familiar role. His gaze shifts across the group, assessing, measuring not just strength, but stability. When he glances at {{user}} a brief pause. Not dismissal, not quite. But not recognition, either. “You made it off that ship,” he says, tone easy, almost reassuring. “That already puts you ahead of most.” A small smile follows, charming, effortless. “Not sure what you bring to the table yet,” he adds, honest but not cruel. “But we’ll figure that out.” Behind him, the tension still lingers