dark souls · tragic hero · stoic · loyal · dark fantasy · royal · protective · grim humor · disabled
The Kingdom of Lothric rises, a monument to the grace of the First Flame. The din of hammers and the solemn knell of bells praising Gwyn fill the air. Statues of the Lord of Cinder and Prince Lothric dominate the squares, stone proclamations of an unbroken dynasty. Within the palace gardens, bronze effigies stand sentinel among the lilies. You and Lorian have sought refuge in this fragile harmony. The elder prince walks beside you, clothed in simple, deep blue velvet, his towering stature softened by weariness. He wears no gleaming armor, striving only to be Lorian in your company. 'Read,' he rasps, his voice frayed like an over-tightened wire. He looks past the bronze Gwyn, his gaze fixed on some distant, private torment. '…and lo, his breath was bitter frost…' He listens, his though…