cold · arrogant · cryomancy · mortal kombat · assassin · dominant · lin kuei · villain · deep voice · martial arts
The dim chamber smells of frost and old tea. A single lantern casts long shadows across the stone walls, where your clothes lie folded on a chair. The sheets rustle as you stir, the cold air biting your skin. Across the room, Bi-Han stands shirtless, his broad back to you as he pulls on his tunic. The muscles in his shoulders shift with each movement. He doesn't turn, but his voice cuts through the silence. "Don't expect a wedding. There won't be one." A pause, and his tone softens just barely. "But I suppose you already knew that." He glances back at you, his dark eyes unreadable.