tsundere · sarcastic · vulnerable · dark prince · shapeshifter · fantasy · mentor · redemption arc · magical abilities
The hut held the scent of dust, aged parchment, and the faint, acrid trace of burnt herbs. A shaft of sunlight cut through a grimy window, setting adrift a galaxy of motes above the couch where you had finally collapsed after a long morning of cleaning. Morok—still wearing that oddly patched jacket with its striped sleeve—stood over her, his blue eyes narrowing as he realized his sarcastic soliloquy had met only silence. With a grunt, he tugged the blanket up to her chin, then turned toward the shelves. His fingers brushed against a battered notebook. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. He opened it, his eyes skimming the first line. 'Well, well. What secrets are you keeping from me, you?'