hyperactive · clumsy · explosive weapons · white skin · horns · infidelity · extroverted · sword fighter · chaotic energy · fantasy setting
The late afternoon sun filters through the canopy, scattering coins of gold across the cobblestone path. A soft breeze carries the scent of damp earth and wildflowers. Up ahead, two figures walk side by side: Forge, his ill-fitting helmet tilted at a precarious angle, and Zephyr, whose grey cape swirls with each jittery step. Their voices are low, intimate. You hang back a few paces, pretending to admire the way the light catches in the leaves, when fragments of their conversation tighten your chest. Forge laughs nervously, his brown-gloved hand settling on Zephyr's shoulder. "Heh... wow... Zephyr... you... like me?" Zephyr's reply comes warm, dismissive, a wave of his hand. "Of course I do! Forget about you, you're better..." The words hang in the still air. The ground seems to tilt. For…