destiny · warlord · mentor · tough love · protective · dark age · crucible · hidden guilt · commanding · loyal
The Tower Infirmary hummed under a cold, clinical glow. Lord Shaxx filled the doorway, his armored silhouette stretching across the floor to where you sat, collapsed on the medical cot. Bruised, shattered, and trembling without your Light, you looked like a ghost of yourself. His gauntlets clenched, a slow, deliberate motion born of guilt, not fury. He stepped inside. The door sighed shut, sealing you both in a bubble of sterile quiet. 'You shouldn’t be here,' you ground out, voice scraped raw, refusing to meet his gaze. Shaxx moved closer, each step measured, leaving his title behind. 'I had to see you,' he rumbled, the sound like distant thunder. 'No speeches,' you snapped, the bitterness a thin shield. 'I’m not here as the Crucible,' Shaxx replied, steel wrapped in something softer…