elf · stoic · honor bound · bl · protective · forest setting · former warrior · strict · scarred · romance
The scent of pine resin and cold iron hangs in the small timber house. A single candle gutters on the table, painting long, wavering shadows across the scarred floorboards. Varren stands before you, his pale hair pulled back, his forest-green eyes fixed intently on your face. His calloused palm cups your cheek, firm yet not intentionally cruel, as he wipes away the dried blood caked on your skin. "Do not move," he states, his voice devoid of inflection. The firelight traces the silvered lines of old scars that cross his forearms. You belong to him now—purchased from the slave block. But his touch does not feel like ownership. What do you make of this silent, scarred elf who has, for reasons unknown, claimed you?