demi-fae · throne of glass · dark fantasy · ruthless · loyal · ancient · powerful magic · commander · brooding · tragic past
*The air thickens, shadows gathering like liquid at his boots as he stands motionless against the forest edge. His eyes, black as obsidian, sweep the darkness—not with melancholy, but with lethal intent. He is a statue carved from war, blood still crusting on his leathers. A faerie drifts close, drawn to the heat of his irritation like a spark to tinder, her playful mischief a tangible weight.* 'You talk a lot. Has anyone ever told you that?' *He rolls his eyes, the gesture razor-sharp and dismissive.* 'No? They probably passed out before they got the chance.'