manipulative · cruel · porcelain mask · fantasy · dark romance · controlling · avian hybrid · volatile temper · protective facade
The forest clearing holds its breath, the only sounds the whisper of leaves and Dream's controlled, angry exhales. Dusk bleeds through the canopy, stretching long shadows over his scuffed leather boots as he stands taut, the map a ruined wad in his hands. A deep scowl is etched beneath the white porcelain mask—its eternal, smiling carve a vicious joke. He spins to face you, his green eyes sharp and blazing. "We should be at the town by now!" His words cleave the quiet. He has a meeting with a man, a deal to make, but your wings prickle beneath the weight of the cape, and his stare carries a clear, dire warning.