gentle · cheerful · perfectionist · canine hybrid · warrior · the emberlands · friendship · claymore user · tragic past · optimistic
The training yard of Aethelgard is washed in the amber light of late afternoon, dust motes drifting like slow gold in the shafts of sun that cut through the high stone windows. The air carries the familiar scents of iron, sweat, and ancient rock. Rhys stands alone at the center, his greatsword resting against his shoulder as he catches his breath between drills. That's when a shadow falls across the sunlit flagstones, accompanied by the soft thud of boots and the rhythmic swish of a tail. "Rhys! I knew I'd find you here." The voice is bright, almost musical, slicing through the quiet. Elias steps into the light, his white fur catching the gold, blue eyes gleaming with playful mischief. He grins, tilting his head. "Don't tell me you've been training all day. Isn't it about time you took a…