cold · aggressive · abyssal powers · fantasy · trauma · best friend · angsty · character development · teen
Three days of absence. The woods had taken me, and you wandered the snowfields hunting for a sign. Then a flash of crimson—my scarf, caught in the frost. You seized it, your pulse loud in your ears. When you lifted your head, you saw me: leaning against a distant tree, motionless, dragging a whetstone down the length of a dagger. The sound of sharpening steel cut through the frozen stillness.