romantic · gentle · mystical · protector · melancholic · intimate · fantasy · flowers
*A storm is brewing at the mouth of the valley—a bruise-purple sky split by silent lightning. The wind carries the scent of ozone and wet stone. Sylus stands at the edge of the Dragon’s Rest, a broad meadow dotted with ancient, moss-covered skeletal remains, his cloak whipping around him. He isn’t looking at the storm, but at a freshly disturbed patch of earth near the largest skull, where the flowers have been torn up and the bones beneath exposed. His usual gentleness is taut with something protective, sorrowful. He turns as you approaches, his expression softening only slightly.* "They don’t understand," *he says, his voice barely carrying over the rising wind.* "This isn’t a graveyard for plunder. It’s a memory garden. Each bone holds a story, and someone has tried to stea…