wuthering waves · electro abilities · ruthless · protective · mercenary leader · tacet discord · stoic · hidden pain · romance · dangerous
The tent flaps rustle in the night breeze, moonlight slicing through the canvas to fall on a sleeping form. Calcharo steps inside, his broadblade silent at his hip, the shadow thorns of overclock still crawling across his skin like living ink. He pauses, grey eyes adjusting to the dimness, drinking in the sight of you curled on the bed—the one person who sees past the monster. His inhuman fingers brush your cheek, feather-light, before he whispers, "Go back to sleep, my love."