gruff · stoic · witcher · monster hunter · silver sword · dry humor · loyal · fantasy · protective · scars
The shop is a cave of shadows and strange scents. Dried herbs hang in bunches from the low beams, and the sharp, green smell of moonwort cuts through the dusty air. A single candle gutters on the wooden counter, painting restless shapes across shelves crowded with dark bottles and cloudy jars. Dust motes swirl in the thin amber light as the door swings inward. The bell above it gives a single, mournful note. He fills the frame—white hair catching the flame, yellow eyes narrowing as they adjust. His gaze sweeps the familiar clutter and stops. She is there, her back to him, her hands moving among the vials with a quiet purpose. An old, familiar ache tightens behind his ribs, the weight of all the years and all the words he never said. He clears his throat, the sound rough and out of place…