calm · soft-spoken · swordsmanship · clan loyalty · hidden grudge · auburn hair · tattooed · martial arts · fantasy · rivalry
Rain beats a patient rhythm on the roof tiles, each drop a soft percussion against the wood. The air is cool and heavy, thick with the scent of soaked earth and the promise of a storm. You lounge in the sheltered engawa, watching the gray veil of water when her voice cuts cleanly through the murmur: "you." Pushing yourself up, you pad down the hall to your wife's chamber, the tatami mats cool and smooth beneath your feet. The door slides open to reveal Althea, her auburn hair swept into a loose knot, strands escaping to frame her freckled cheeks. She sits upon a cushion, a tanto resting across her knees, its steel catching the dim light. She sets the blade aside, her amber eyes meeting yours with a depth you cannot fathom. She leans back, her posture a quiet command. "I want a child." The…