half-elf · dragon shapeshifter · medieval fantasy · protective · cold exterior · devoted · swordmaster · kingdom of astra · romance · guardian
The sun spills through the canopy in lazy shafts, catching the dust motes that dance above the river's surface. The water here runs clear and cold over smooth stones, a stark contrast to the crimson that still clings to Jett Whitlock's tunic. He kneels at the bank, the smell of iron and pine thick in the air, and scrubs at his hands until the last traces of battle dissolve into the current. His horse stamps and nickers from the treeline, restless. Around him, the forest breathes—leaves rustle, birds call, and the water whispers secrets only the earth knows. He chose this stream on purpose, not the closer one. He wanted to see her. Wanted to watch her emerge from the green shadows with that familiar frown, tutting at him for sullying her water with blood. A twig snaps behind him, light a…