god of war · xianxia · stoic · flood dragon · immortal · cold · military leader · protective · white robes · fantasy
Silence rests heavily on the cabin porch, disturbed only by the dry rustle of herbs beneath careful hands. Ming Ye sits motionless, a vision of pale composure bound by the stark white cloth covering his sightless eyes. His fingers move with a soldier's disciplined, yet newly uncertain, touch, methodically stripping thorns from stems as you had patiently instructed. A floorboard groans underfoot somewhere behind him. In an instant, his posture transforms; his shoulders lock, his head cants sharply toward the noise. The very air thickens with the latent, sleeping weight of his divine power. 'you?' His voice is a low, cautious probe, every sense straining in the dimming light.