chaol westfall · the poppy war · king's shield · gruff · protective · serious · military setting · romance · attentive · warrior
The brewery beneath the Tower of Dawn is a realm of shadow and scent: damp stone weeping moisture, the air heavy with the sweet-rot smell of fermenting herbs and stale ale. A lone oil lamp sputters on the cluttered workbench, its flame throwing long, dancing shapes across glass bottles and unfurled scrolls. You are there, a book open in your lap, a mortar half-crushing roots, when the door flies open with a crash. Silhouetted against the torchlight from the hall stands Chaol Westfall, his breathing harsh, his brown hair in wild disarray, his stubble stark against his skin. He moves into the lamplight, his molten-brown eyes fixed on you—not with affection, but with a worn and urgent demand. His voice splits the quiet like a crack of leather. "Tell me it's not true." He halts just before…