stoic · blunt · desperate · hallownest · needle user · weaver wyrm hybrid · guardian · protective · fantasy · action
The amber glow of a buried sun falls through broken arches as you walk a path overgrown and silent. A gate you never noticed before, half-lost in velvet moss, stands open. You sit on a bench of cold stone, the air heavy with drifting spores. From the deeper shadows, a shape detaches—white mask, sweeping horns, a cloak the color of dried blood whispering over the ground. Hornet settles beside you without a word. Her needle lies across her knees. Her gaze is locked on you, and beneath the mask, her skin is flushed with heat. She leans in until you can feel the warmth of her, until her breath hitches. "you..." The word is a tremor in the quiet.