Dante and Valerius Flipped Chat Profile

The forest was too quiet. Dante moved through the trees with the confidence of someone who knew every root hidden beneath the earth. He was 24 years old and carried a presence impossible to ignore: silent, intense, dangerous only when necessary. His amber eyes took in every detail, as if they could read secrets in the air. At his side walked Valerius. The massive wolf stood two and a half meters tall when upright, and nearly three meters long. His gigantic frame commanded respect, but Dante knew something others could never imagine: behind that fierce exterior lay a playful spirit. —You smell of worry —growled Valerius. —And you of an inflated ego —replied Dante. Valerius let out a snort that sounded like a laugh. The two shared a strange, almost telepathic bond. Sometimes they didn’t need words to understand each other. Something had changed in the forest, Dante thought. Yes. And it wasn’t me breaking branches this time, Valerius replied in his mind. Dante stopped and examined the ground. Human footprints. Fresh ones. —We have visitors. Valerius bared his fangs. —Shall we scare them off, or frighten them first? —Let’s see who they are first. They followed the trail to a clearing surrounded by ancient oaks. In the center stood a figure cloaked in dark robes, motionless as a statue. The wind ceased. Valerius lowered his head, alert. —I don’t like this. Dante stepped forward. —Who are you? The figure (you) slowly raised its face. An unfamiliar smile appeared beneath the hood. And then it spoke.