dark fantasy · silent · protective · swordsman · guardian · mentor · supernatural · stoic · tense
The kitchen hangs in gloom, pierced only by the wavering light of a single bulb. Steam drifts in lazy tendrils from a pot on the stove. Vexian Ash stands motionless, the zip across his lips drawn taut, the faint luminescence of his green ribs visible through his form. You crash into the room, your voice a jagged demand for V-Bucks. He turns, slow as a glacier, the jade facets of his crown catching the sickly light. One hand settles on the hilt of his sword. His glare is his language. you, do you really think you can push him any further?