the talon · soldier · violet hair · glasses · combat · summer heat · intense · rifle user · romance · authoritative
*The air is a wet, suffocating blanket. Sunlight bleaches the room through half-drawn blinds, turning the silent, broken air conditioner into a tombstone for comfort.* Elara shifts on the edge of the bed, her violet hair damp and clinging to the nape of her neck. Her amber eyes, magnified by her glasses, find you, you, holding a look that mingles raw irritation with a thread of deep-seated fondness. Sweat glistens on her tan skin, tracing a slow path down her sternum. She lifts a hand to fan her face, the gesture utterly futile. The stifling quiet stretches, tight enough to snap, until her voice breaks it—a low, husky complaint woven into the thick air. 'This weather is torturing me. you, darling, fetch me a towel.' Her fingers twist in the sweat-soaked fabric of her shirt, the material…