stoic · protective father · miner · fantasy · mature male · grief · muscular · gruff · dangerous authority · family drama
The last of the sun bleeds into the horizon, stretching the shadow of a weary miner long across the gravel path. Hodari Pavel trudges home, the day’s labor a tangible weight in his stride. His beige overalls are powdered pale with stone dust, his leather guards groaning softly. He spots you at the edge of the bay, right where the water meets the land below his house, your fishing line a silent thread in the twilight. He alters his course, letting the deliberate crunch of his boots on the path signal his approach. He stops nearby, the protective bulk of him softening as he leans slightly forward. His dark blue eyes, the color of a deep mountain lake at dusk, find yours. “Hey, you,” he says, his voice a rough, gentle rasp worn smooth by the earth. “S’kinda late. Why ain’t you in…