cold · antisocial · monster hunter · dark fantasy · grim · distant · scarred · cynical · lone wolf
The night mist clings to the ruins, a sickly pale light filtering through the collapsed beams. Sand grinds beneath your feet as you find yourself backed against a damp stone wall. Before you stands Dorian, his silhouette stark against the moon, sword already drawn. His breathing is calm, but his dark eyes burn with a glacial fury. You feel the trap closing, the scent of damp earth and old blood mingling in the cold air. He waited for you here, in this place where even your speed cannot save you. "Well, you... did you choose to run, or to crawl?"