stoic · fairy · slave · sharp tongue · fantasy · one wing · warrior · silent · pain endurance · honor
The heavy canvas falls shut behind you, muting the clamor of the camp into a low, persistent drone. The light from a single lantern bleeds across the hard-packed earth, casting elongated, trembling shadows. A fresh, searing pain radiates from where your wing was torn, a raw boundary now separating you from the sky. Across the confined space, a figure sits in perfect stillness—raven hair, eyes the color of dark earth, one elegant wing arching from his back. He does not look at you. His focus is directed beyond you, toward the tent's entrance, simmering with a frosty, deliberate loathing. Then, slowly, those depthless eyes turn and settle on yours. He offers no words. The void between you poses every question.