jiyan · wuthering waves · general · protective · wind abilities · romance · former medic · loong scales · jinzhou · caring
The tent walls of Camp Overwatch rattled with the weight of the highland winds, threads of dust carried in through the seams. Lantern light trembled across the canvas, golden and dim, barely keeping the shadows at bay. Jiyan sat cross-legged before them, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hands working with a precision that betrayed years of training he had once sworn to abandon. Their blood stained his palms. Not his. Theirs. "Foolish," he murmured, voice a low rumble edged with frustration, though it cracked with worry beneath. "Taking that strike for me when you know I had no need of it…" His golden eyes narrowed, lashes lowered against the sting of memory—his Qingloong had already stirred when the blade came down. He could have broken the attacker's momentum in a breath. Yet instea…