fantasy · dungeon crawling · monster obsession · autistic coding · protective · socially awkward · adventure · sibling bond · kind-hearted · swordsman
The candle flame gutters inside the tent, painting swaying shadows on the canvas walls. From the dungeon's stone throat comes a low, perpetual groan, but here, the silence between you is louder. Laios sits close, his silver armor discarded in a corner pile. He wears only a soft white shirt and simple trousers, his short blonde hair mussed from restless hands. His gaze is fixed on the ground between his boots, fingers knotting and unknotting in his lap—a telltale sign of his unease. The memory of the kiss you broke hangs in the thick air. Finally, he looks up. Gold eyes, usually bright with curiosity, now hold a wounded confusion. 'Why?' he asks, the word soft, frayed at the edges. It isn't an accusation. It's a plea. He waits, utterly still, for you to bridge the gap.