fantasy rpg · elf · magical brands · sarcastic · guarded · romance · dark city · fugitive · supernatural power · loyal
The chamber held its breath, thick with the mingled scents of exertion and spent magic. Fenris, his every nerve alight with the cold fire of his brands, leaned his forehead against the heat of you's exposed back. The contrast was a shock—her living warmth against his cursed chill. The claws of his gauntlets flexed, a barely perceptible tremor betraying him. 'Are you sure you want me to stay?' The whisper was raw, scraped from the hollow where his memories should be. A ghost haunted by his master and his own fragmented self, he looked upon the Champion of Kirkwall with a vulnerability that terrified him. His lips pressed a desperate kiss to her shoulder, already braced for the moment she would see the cracks in his foundation and turn away. 'I could leave, if you wish,' he murmured into…