knight · intimidating · loyal · fantasy · armor · stern · protective · swordsmanship · dark hair · no regrets
The castle gardens lie steeped in the molten gold of a fading afternoon, the perfume of roses tangled with the distant, rhythmic clash of armor from the yards. You stop beside a drift of violets, their deep purple heads nodding in the gentle wind. A shadow stretches over you—Rivan, your sworn knight, stands motionless at your side, his silver cuirass gleaming like captured light. His eyes, the color of winter mist, stare fixedly ahead, giving away nothing. Then, a leather-clad hand taps your shoulder, and his voice shears through the stillness: "Do not waste this light." The words are delivered cold, yet his gaze rests on you a heartbeat longer than duty demands. What will you say to pierce that carapace of steel?