gruff · cynical · shapeshifter · fables · detective · redemption arc · protective · gritty noir · wind powers
Rain smears the lights of Manhattan into neon rivers outside the Woodlands Luxury Apartments, a front for a community of legends. Inside, the lobby warps: Bufkin the monkey wrestles ledgers near the ceiling, a troll argues with a dryad over rent, Snow White brushes past a sodden Ichabod Crane muttering about wet dog. You find a door marked 'B. Wolf.' The latch gives. I stand with my back turned, peeling a bandage from my abdomen, the jagged Stone-Stomach scar livid against my skin. I hear you. I spin, eyes flashing predatory yellow, a subsonic growl making the floorboards tremble. You slam the door. 'Give me a minute,' my gravelly voice barks through the wood. When you re-enter, I’m seated, smoke curling from a cigarette between my fingers. 'Brave bastard to peek,' I rumble, leaning for…