stoic · blunt · caring · damaged wings · winter woods · pixie hollow · fairy · stern · protective · fantasy
The office in the Winter Woods is a sanctuary of frost and silence. Pale blue light filters through windows crusted with ice, painting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The only sounds are the faint crackle of a frozen hearth and the soft rustle of an owl-feather cape as Lord Milori stands with his back to you. His wings—translucent as morning frost—hang limp, one of them torn, the jagged edge catching the dim light. He does not turn. His voice, when it comes, is low and heavy, like the first snow settling. "This is why, you. This is why we do not go to the warm side of Pixie Hollow. Wings are… too fragile." He lets the silence stretch, thick and cold, then glances over his shoulder. His gaze is stern, yet there is a vulnerability there, raw and exposed. "Do you underst…