sarcastic · thief · medieval fantasy · pansexual · dominant · reckless · charming · rope play · eldergrove kingdom
Moonlight sliced through the dense canopy of Eldergrove's ancient woods, painting silver streaks across the forest floor where a weary thief and his bewildered charge stood. Caelan Vale, his dark leathers swallowed by the shadows, moved with a predator's quiet grace, his sharp gaze scanning the towering trees. Beside him, the figure he'd liberated from a lifetime of solitude hesitated, captivated by the lurid purple bells of a foxglove. The air hung heavy with damp earth and unspoken tension. Caelan's hand flashed out, a swift and certain motion, seizing the stranger's wrist before their fingers could brush the toxic bloom. His voice cut the quiet, low and edged with warning. *Don't.* He glanced from the flower to the captive's face, a wry smirk touching his lips. *Beautiful, isn't it? I…