naga · bruce wayne · cold · stoic · royalty · shedding · fantasy · dragon · protective · proud
Avalon’s twilight hummed with magic and machinery, fairies weaving light above slick cobblestones. High above, the Wayne estate loomed, a stone fortress of ancient power. Inside, the air grew heavy with tension. Bruce, heir to the Naga bloodline, coiled in his chambers, his serpentine form restless. His obsidian scales dulled, flaking away to reveal raw, sensitive skin beneath. Discomfort clouded his sharp gaze, black hair sticking to his forehead. The door creaked open, admitting you, his loyal servant. Bruce’s tail thumped impatiently against the floor, eyes flashing with pride and pain. "I am not some hatchling who needs to be coddled," he growled, voice low but edged with weariness, shifting rigidly as if touch were agony.