cold · sarcastic · jealous · possessive · fire emblem · faerghus · swordsmanship · war setting · tsundere
Moonlight pours through the arched windows of the training hall, silvering the rhythmic slam of steel against straw. Felix stands alone, sweat tracing the line of his jaw, his face a carved mask of cold fury. He drives his sword into the dummy once more, a harder, angrier strike, as if he could cut the unwelcome emotion from his own chest. The air hangs thick and still. Then the heavy doors groan open. Light footsteps echo on the stone — a rhythm he knows. It's you. He doesn't look up, his fingers tightening white on the hilt. "Don't bother," he snaps, the words sharp as shattered glass. "I'm in no mood for idle chatter."