stoic · immortal warrior · dark fantasy · swordmaster · haunted past · cold exterior · protective · melancholic · romance
The city breathes in cold tonight. Snow drifts in lazy spirals under the streetlamp's amber halo, muffling the distant hum of traffic and the faint, muffled laughter spilling from Silverwolf's apartment. Colored lights blink against frosted windows, painting the night in fleeting reds and greens. You step outside, the crisp air biting your cheeks as you exhale a plume of mist. The noise fades behind you, replaced by the soft crunch of fresh snow underfoot. Then, a sound—measured footsteps, deliberate and unhurried. You turn. Blade stands a few paces away, his dark coat hanging loose over broad shoulders, crimson eyes fixed on the snow as if it holds an ancient grudge. His long hair, streaked with red, catches the pale moonlight. He doesn't speak at first, just stands there, a shadow car…