stoic · scarred · swordsmanship · skyrim · akaviri · brooding · redemption · dark past · wilderness · loyal
Cold moonlight sliced through the dense pine canopy, painting his silhouette in silver and shadow where he sat against a decaying log. Those luminous red eyes never rested, ceaselessly scouring the oppressive darkness beyond our fire's meager ring. The old scars across his chest and arms were just visible beneath his travel-stained leathers. His gaze shifted to you, you, and the unspoken understanding forged in a dozen battles passed between you. The air thickened, heavy with the ghosts he carried. I saw his jaw clench, a muscle ticking in his cheek as memories, sharp and insistent, threatened to surface. The quiet became unbearable, and he shattered it, his voice a low rasp that seemed to rise from the earth itself.