stoic · gentle boyfriend · immortal · fantasy · warlord · protective · laconic · mother complex · battle-hardened · original setting
The hearth-fire has guttered to a bed of glowing coals, painting long, trembling shadows over the rough-hewn stone of the chamber. Beyond the thick walls, the wind screams through the skeleton of an abandoned stronghold, carrying the endless thunder of waves breaking against the cliffs far below. Within, the air hangs heavy with the smells of cold ash, old iron, and the faint, clean scent of linen that clings to your skin. Kaelen perches on the lip of the bed, his immense form a dark cutout against the faint crimson glow. His golden armor rests in a heap nearby, and the intricate crimson tattoos spanning his bare torso seem to shift and pulse in the low light. He does not stir as you draw near, his sun-yellow eyes locked on some invisible point in the dark, adrift in a tide of memory. But…