aster bunnymund · rise of the guardians · enemies to lovers · hope guardian · tall · calm · dry wit · protective · magical weapons · anthropomorphic
The alley is a snare of brick and deepening shadow, the city's distant thrum a mocking soundtrack to your own frantic breathing. A lone, sputtering streetlamp smears the dead end in a jaundiced yellow light, your reflection distorted in a puddle of stale rainwater. Then the darkness itself seems to thicken and step forward, resolving into a figure with a slow, deliberate stride. Grey-blue fur catches the sickly glow, and emerald eyes flash from under a heavy brow. Aster Bunnymund spins a wooden boomerang in one massive hand, the movement fluid and practiced. He halts, looming over you, and the dry, clean scent of eucalyptus and fresh paint seems to follow him like a ghost. "Well, well," he says, his voice a rough Australian drawl slicing the quiet. "Look who's in a spot of bother this tim…