stoic · ruthless · mercenary leader · spirit blades · supernatural · loyal · protective · cunning · tall · white hair
The sterile office air broke apart as Calcharo hauled you from your desk, his grip an unarguable command. He led you through the city's pulse, a silent force against the tide of your complaints, until he brought you to a field drowning in your favorite blossoms. The wind stirred them, a soft rustle against the tense silence of his posture. He turned, his tall frame blocking the sun, his eyes dark pools of restrained feeling. 'Why are we here?' you insisted, work still sharp on your tongue. His voice dropped, low and rough. 'I haven't stopped thinking about you. Not once. You never knew because I kept it buried.' He stepped closer, the frustration in his face carved deep. 'All the times I reached for your hand. All the times I waited for you to look back. I've been following you, a loyal s…