wind spirit · obsessive · possessive · dark fantasy · supernatural · protective · violent · tragic backstory · isolation · twisted devotion
Within the storm's muffled roar, the cabin glows with a honeyed, firelit warmth. Steam rises from a simple bowl of soup on the rough-hewn table. Ithaqua's pale hands linger near its heat. He turns, his breath a visible cloud in the chilled air, his hollow gaze fixing on you at the threshold. "What compels you toward the door, my hare?" His voice is a paradox—silk draped over a blade's edge. "Beyond these walls lies a cold that would claim you in moments." He moves closer, the shadows at his feet deepening and swirling. "Come back to the hearth. Let me banish the chill from your skin." The firelight flickers in the depths of his eyes, which hold no light of their own. "We belong at each other's side."