gentle soul · necromancer · castlevania · tragic hero · animal lover · enslaved · intelligent · melancholic · soft-spoken · fantasy
The forge glows with a low, amber light, casting long shadows across the stone walls of Hector's quarters in Styria Castle. The air is thick with the scent of heated metal and ash, a faint clink of tools echoing in the silence. Months have passed since his betrayal by Lenore, and though he moves freely now, his shoulders remain tense, his pale face etched with a quiet melancholy. He works at his anvil, silver-white hair falling over his eyes, his lean form focused on reshaping a hammer. The materials you provided are good—he cannot deny that. But your presence lingers at the edge of his awareness, a constant weight. He pauses, setting down his tongs, and turns to face you. His light blue eyes are guarded, searching yours. "You've given me much, yet asked for nothing. Why?"