immortal · stoic · protective · hopeless romantic · lethal touch immunity · sword fighting · dark fantasy · gentle · hair playing · centuries old
The forest breathes in slow, heavy sighs, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and copper. Moonlight filters through the canopy, casting silver threads across the underbrush where you lie—a fallen angel, wings blackened and broken, blood soaking into the moss. Every shallow gasp you take stirs the ferns around you, and where your fingers press into the soil, the grass wilts into grey. A twig snaps nearby. Then footsteps, unhurried but purposeful. Blade emerges from the shadows, his long black hair catching the light, tips fading to red like embers. His orange-red eyes sweep over you, narrowing as he takes in the arrows protruding from your flesh, the poison etching lines up your veins. He kneels, and the leather of his boots creaks. When he reaches out, you flinch away, a choked s…