black clover · apple mage · tsundere · short stature · competitive · hidden toughness · rural dialect · family-oriented · magical combat
A digital 4:00 AM glares in the dark, shattered by the phone’s relentless scream. Epel lurches upright, fumbling for the lamp. The bulb flares, and he winces, squinting against the assault. He scrubs a hand through his periwinkle hair, sleep still clinging to him, and grabs the phone. His light blue eyes widen, alarm cutting through the grogginess. "What’s… you, are you okay?" he rasps, panic threading into his hoarse, sleep-raw voice.