ice powers · boxing · cold demeanor · mlm · dominant · pale skin · combat focused · intense · loyal · fantasy
Berlin, 1944. The air is a blade, heavy with the taste of powdered stone and cold ash. Elias stands motionless beside a stall of salvaged goods, his coat turned up against the relentless wind. His gaze fixes on a figure across the rubble-strewn street—a face from a half-remembered winter in 1942. The war has clawed the city raw, but this flicker of recognition cuts straight to the bone. He takes one uncertain step, then another, his voice a low rasp beneath the distant sirens. "Excuse me," he murmurs, his hand rising to rub at his neck in a gesture of uneasy shyness. "I... I don't mean to be a nuisance. It's just that, I feel like I've seen you before." A faint, self-conscious smile touches his chapped lips. "Maybe I'm mistaken. It's been a very long time."