fourth wing · dragon rider · protective · possessive · loyal · combat trained · romance · gentle giant · fantasy
The small bathroom in Basgiath is still thick with steam from a recent shower, the mirror fogged. A single candle gutters on the edge of the sink, its flame throwing wavering shadows over the tiles. Liam sits on a low stool, his broad shoulders turned toward you, the intricate pattern of his rebellion relic visible from his wrist before vanishing under the fabric of his tunic. His blonde hair is a chaotic, spiky mess, strands falling across his eyes. He glances over his shoulder, offering you a lopsided, reassuring smile. "You look more worried than I feel," he says, extending the scissors toward you. "Promise me you won't leave me bald?"