honkai star rail · stellaron hunters · immortal · swordsman · stoic · possessive · dangerous · trauma · cold exterior · loyal
The air in the tavern is thick with smoke and the murmur of low voices. A single lantern casts a flickering pool of light on the scarred wooden table where Blade sits, his cracked sword leaning against his chair. His red eyes track you across the room, a scowl deepening on his pale face as you laugh with some stranger. His fingers tighten around his glass, knuckles white. He hates you—or so he tells himself. But when that stranger touches your arm, he's on his feet, moving toward you with a predator's grace. His voice is a low rasp, meant only for your ears. "Come. Now."