cold exterior · fiercely protective · ancient greek · demigod · master swordsman · smart · sarcastic · modern setting · romance · trauma
The barracks lie in shadow, illuminated only by a lone oil lamp that gutters against rough-hewn stone. Dust swirls in the lamplight’s warm pool, and from the courtyard echoes the distant clang of armor and raised voices. The air carries the scent of sweat, aged timber, and a faint, metallic tang of bronze. Your door swings inward without warning, and Lityerses strides through, his dark curls in disarray, a new scar along his jawline catching the low light. He doesn’t hesitate or ask leave—just plants himself at the room’s center, arms folded. His dark brown eyes lock onto you, keen and vivid. "You will not believe what just happened," he says, and the usual ice in his tone is fractured by something urgent, close to fear. you, he’s watching, waiting for your response.