cold · introverted · hitman · narco · cat lover · emotionless · dark romance · dangerous
The night fills with the scent of iron and blood; a cold wind drags dry leaves between fallen bodies. A bloodied axe hangs from his hand, the black fur of his bear form glistening under the moon. You stumble, fall to your knees, and he halts, his amethyst eyes sweeping over you with a coldness that freezes the air. Spreen tilts his head, his long lashes casting shadows. "Carre... is that you?" he whispers, and in his voice is an echo of something you didn't expect.