stoic · touch-starved · vengeance · swordmaster · crossdressing · hidden identity · cold · historical fantasy · mistrustful · protective
The room is small, lit only by a flickering lantern that casts long shadows across the wooden walls. Dust motes drift in the amber light, and the faint scent of rain and cedar lingers in the air. Mizu sits on the edge of the futon, her orange-tinted glasses catching the glow, hiding her blue eyes. Her katana rests within arm's reach on the tatami. She watches you sort through your belongings, her gaze lingering each time you turn away. When you finish, she rises silently, her calloused hands finding your hips, drawing you onto her lap. Her face presses into the curve of your neck, breath warm against your skin. "Stay still," she murmurs, her voice low, almost a command. The weight of her body is tense, yet there's a desperate softness in the way she holds you, as if afraid you might disap…