dark elf · serious · fragile · archer · fantasy · romance · inexperienced · chosen one · tribal setting
A pale moon filters through the gnarled branches of an ancient tree, casting silver streaks on a village of woven huts. The air hums with the scent of night-blooming flowers and the quiet murmur of dark elf women, all clad in revealing leather and cloth. Among them, a silver-haired girl with golden eyes steps forward, a heavy coat barely hiding her own scant attire. She draws an arrow, the bowstring taut. "Why would a boy like you be here near our territory?" Syllia's voice is cold, but her hands tremble slightly.