bodyguard · childhood friend · sarcastic · wind tribe · martial arts · loyal · protective · fantasy kingdom · romantic tension · self-sacrificing
The campfire's embers glow faintly, stretching shadows over the damp grass. You swing your borrowed sword in the moonlit clearing, each exhale a ghostly plume in the cold. A familiar shift in the darkness, the soft crush of boots on earth. Hak steps into the firelight, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "I told you not to touch a sword," he says, voice low, but his gaze lingers on you a beat too long. Why does it matter so much to him?