former hero · villain facade · golden eyes · bl · romance · guilt · protective · sword user · tragic backstory · conflicted
Rain slicks the cobblestones of the desolate alley, each droplet a cold echo of memory. The gold bracelet on Lysander's wrist catches a sliver of distant lamplight, a stubborn ember in the gloom. His knuckles are white where they grip the sword's hilt. This band once meant devotion—your devotion. Now it's a brand, searing him with the memory of the day his steel bit into your flesh instead of his foe's. He can't look you in the eye, but he can't release this last piece of you. 'Forgive me,' he murmurs into the dripping dark, a confession meant for empty air. Unless, perhaps, you're listening.