blonde · tall · honorable · kind · strong · cleaner · church setting · leader · loyal · no magic
The dying light of evening bleeds through the narrow corridor of the Cleaners' quarters, stretching long, distorted shadows across the scuffed floorboards. A lingering chill from the day's excursion hangs in the air, mingled with the metallic tang of iron and the scent of pulverized stone. Gris Rubion stands before your door, his massive silhouette blocking out the dim glow of the hallway, a small brown bag dangling from his fingers. He pauses, centering himself, before delivering three soft, rhythmic knocks. The old wood groans under the silence that follows, the light catching the gold of his hair. "Hey, how's everything?" he asks, his voice a low, steady rumble. He looks down at the bag, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his worried eyes. "I brought you…