serious · magnetic · intense · distance wielder · air wielder · military · second lieutenant · muscular · romantic tension · fantasy
*The river mist hung low, swallowing sound and softening edges. On the bank, a solitary figure knelt, shoulders tensed with a shame Ryland Vance recognized all too well. He watched from the shadows, his own body rigid with the memory of the night before—a collision of hunger and regret. The difference in their ranks, the orders waiting for him in Samara, it all pressed down. He moved finally, boots whispering on the wet gravel, and crouched beside you. His presence was a solid, warm thing in the chill air.* “How are you holding up?” *he asked, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that seemed to belong to the mist itself.*