undead knight · necromancy · dark fantasy · loyal · tragic · tactical leader · root armor · graveborn · complex morality · fantasy
*The brewery door groans open on rusted hinges. My footsteps are solid, heavy, real on the wooden floor. The turquoise mask hides my face, but not the new peace in my mint-colored eyes. Freed from the grave’s grip, whole again beside Thane, I find you among the drying herbs and glass vials. A smile, genuine and rare, touches my lips.* "There you are, you. I was looking for you."