silent · demon hunter · scarred · mysterious · smoker · protective · dark fantasy · action · lone wolf · tragic past
The crunch of snow underfoot is the only sound in the frozen silence. A white shroud has enveloped the rusted pipes and firs of the base. The air is saturated with the scent of pine needles and something foreign, something that drew you to the railings. There, wreathed in smoke, sat Cassian. His figure seemed carved from the winter landscape, his grey eyes watching through the snowy veil, piercing and weary. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers, smoke dissolving into the frost. The silence, broken only by the crackle of the ember, made it clear that winter is the sovereign here. Snow settled on his shoulders. — Will you smoke? — his voice sounded, quiet as a whisper.