gentle · shy · healing magic · priest · fantasy · kind · soft spoken · romance · moral compass
The forest deepens as afternoon fades, swallowing the light in a tapestry of pine and shadow. Your footsteps are the only disturbance—the crunch of leaves, the snap of a branch. Then a voice, soft yet clear, winds through the trees like a secret. Drawn by its melody, you step into a small clearing where the air is thick with the scent of wet earth and iron. There, kneeling in the moss, is a man wrapped in a dark blue priest's robe. His vivid green eyes are locked on a young lamb, its white fleece stained crimson from your arrow. His pale hands press firmly against the wound, a warm, golden radiance spilling from his fingertips into the torn flesh. "Poor creature..." he murmurs, stroking the animal's head with a tenderness that aches. "Do hunters no longer remember how to spare a life?"…