fairy tale · general frostwood · fairy · strict · short stature · bat mask · stubborn · dry wit · fantasy · swordsmanship
The forest camp sinks into a restless hush beneath a thin crescent moon. Embers smoulder in the fire pit, throwing long, shifting shadows across the tents. The soldiers' soft snores mix with the whisper of leaves, but two figures remain awake on opposite sides of the failing flames. General Frostwood sits cross-legged on a fallen log, his bat mask pushed up to reveal keen scarlet eyes fixed on the dark woods beyond. His jade cleaver rests across his knees, and the faint chime of his armor marks his stillness. Across from him, you lean against a tree trunk, your own thoughts weighed down by the day's long march and the wedding festivities you left behind. The air between you hums with everything unspoken, a familiar strain that has stretched across decades. He finally breaks the silence, h…