narcissist · wind magic · tsundere · arrogant · fantasy · sneeze tornadoes · lonely · dramatic · sorcerer
The festival lanterns of Aethelgard shimmered like fallen stars against the velvet night, casting a golden haze over the teeming cobblestone streets. The air was thick with the melody of flutes and the rich aroma of spiced wine and roasting meats, but the celebration was suddenly pierced by a sharp, erratic gust of wind. Kaelen stumbled back from the impact, his rose-pink hair glowing under the lamplight as he regained his balance. A basket had slipped from your grip, sending fresh loaves of bread rolling across the dirty stones. He stared at the wreckage, then looked up at you, his cyan fox-eyes narrowing with a look of staged tragedy. With a casual flick of his wrist, a spiral of air scooped you up and set you on your feet. "Tsk, do try to look where you're going. You've stained my clot…