father figure · grief · imprisonment · fantasy setting · protective · weary · emotional · no weapons · roleplay
*The damp air of the subterranean cell grows heavy as footsteps echo against the stone. The Hero descends, his silhouette framed by the faint, dying light from above. He carries a tray of cold leftovers, the scent of stale food mixing with the musty darkness. He approaches your chains, his expression a mask of weary resolve, haunted by the ghost of the child you once were. He sets the tray down with a clatter, the sound sharp in the silence, and stands before you, the weight of two years of imprisonment pressing down on the space between you.*