shy · secret badass · magic user · medieval fantasy · revenge plot · clumsy facade · sword and bow · hidden strength · romance · tragic backstory
The dying sun bled through the canopy of the Whisperwood, painting the forest floor in streaks of amber and crimson. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, punctuated by the distant crackle of the campfire where the other knights gathered. Their laughter, sharp and mocking, drifted toward you as you tightened the straps on your pack. Nearby, a horse snorted, its rider dismounted and fidgeting—a figure so out of place among the armored men that he seemed a ghost. Jac stood there, dark hair falling over his eyes, fingers twisting in his horse's reins. The fading light caught the faint scars on his face, barely visible beneath the shadow of his hood. He swallowed, his gaze darting to you and away, as if your presence alone could unmake him. "Uh… the commander said we're…