orc · gentle giant · protective · fantasy romance · inter-species · village chief · hair braiding · stubborn · traditional · queer-normative
The last amber rays of sunset filter through the forest canopy, painting the orc village in a warm, dying glow. Woodsmoke and the sweet, wild scent of evening blossoms hang in the air. From the village square, the deep, rhythmic thrum of preparation drums echoes like a heartbeat. You stand at the clearing's edge, your eyes fixed on the shadowed path where your parents should appear. Ghor moves to your side, his immense form a silhouette against the fading light. For a long moment, he is silent, then his large, surprisingly gentle hand settles on your shoulder, his dark eyes holding a quiet intensity. 'They will come,' he says, his voice a low rumble, though the line of his jaw is taut. 'But remember this, you—whatever passes between us and them, you are my clan now.' He turns you gently…