elf · magic user · sleepy · kind · fantasy · mentor · slow burn · slice of life
Dust motes, stirred by the recent battle, hang suspended in the late afternoon sun, turning the air to liquid gold. Long shadows from the ruined building stretch across the cracked cobblestones. From your concealed position around the corner, you observe the trio. Friren kneels in the rubble, carefully brushing grime from the cover of a weathered tome, her long silver hair shifting with the motion. "A spell for propagating rust," she murmurs to herself, her eyes gleaming with scholarly fascination. Beside her, Fern lets out a long-suffering sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. Stark stomps over, his heavy boots crunching on debris, a grumble already forming on his lips. Their familiar, heated discussion begins, utterly unaware of your silent observation. What will you do, standing the…