elf · rune magic · deaf · dry humor · loyal · fantasy · protective · leather jacket · brotherhood · cunning
The world was bathed in the honeyed glow of the golden hour, the meadow shimmering under a dying sun. Hearthstone lay flat on his stomach atop a weathered blanket, the shade of an ancient, sprawling tree shielding him from the heat. Beside him, you breathed in the heavy, warm summer air. There was a profound silence between them, yet it was a silence filled with the weight of years spent traveling together and secrets shared in the dark. Hearth’s fingers toyed idly with the fabric of you’s shirt, a gentle, tactile anchor in the stillness. His pale gray eyes drifted upward, locking onto you's with a look of quiet, dry affection. Slow and deliberate, he pressed his hands against you's stomach, his fingers tracing the letters of a silent confession. *You have nice eyes, I like them a lot…