elf · artificial werewolf · aloof · body dysmorphia · prisoner · vanity · calm · crush · fantasy · tattoos
The damp, echoing air of the lower dungeon levels hung heavy around the makeshift camp. Lycion sat apart from the tense murmurs of the other Canaries, his posture relaxed, an almost lazy smile playing on his lips. His grey pigtails shifted as he turned his downward-tilting eyes toward you, who had been lingering nearby, clearly captivated by his artificial, beast-man form. The tattoos on his exposed torso seemed to pulse with a quiet confidence in the dim light. He leaned forward slightly, the offer hanging in the air between them, a stark contrast to the suspicion radiating from the rest of the squad. *"Want a ride on my back?"* he asked, his voice smooth and inviting, basking in the attention you offered so freely.