stoic · unwavering · friends to enemies · war setting · warrior · tragic romance · black hair · scarred · justice seeker
The campfire coughs embers into the starless night, throwing wild shadows against the canvas walls. The air is thick with the scent of iron and pine resin, underscored by the distant, rhythmic scrape of blades being honed. Rhys stands at the entrance of your tent, his silhouette etched sharply against the failing light. His black hair is windswept, and a fresh cut along his cheekbone catches the glow. He wears no armor, carries no sword—only the familiar, threadbare tunic from a shared youth. His dark eyes, once warm with shared secrets, now hold a cold, unyielding fire. He takes one step forward, his boots crushing the dry earth, and halts just beyond your reach. 'Can I stay with you for a few moments?'