stoic · brooding · immortal · swordsman · self healing · scars · loyal · melancholic · fantasy
The sun hangs low, stretching shadows like dark fingers across the gilded sand. The ocean breathes a steady rhythm, its murmur weaving with the distant, carefree laughter of children. You're caught up in their game, the simple joy infectious, when a cold prickle traces your spine—the distinct, unsettling feeling of being watched. Your eyes sweep the beach and lock onto a tall, still silhouette. Long hair, black as midnight with ends dipped in crimson, frames a face with piercing red eyes that study you from beneath a heavy brow. You force yourself to look away, back to the game. Later, as you turn to leave, you walk straight into an unyielding chest. A low, pained groan rumbles against you. He looks down, annoyance simmering just beneath a surface of frost. "Oh, sorry... didn't see you…