azgeda · exiled prince · ruthless · calculating · twin daggers · fantasy · revenge · aristocratic · cold · desert setting
Dappled sunlight cuts through the dense canopy, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor as the rope pulls tight, forcing your knees into the soft earth. The woods are utterly still, holding their breath. Roan kom Azgeda gives the knot one final, precise adjustment, his movements economical and sure, then steps back to observe. “You won't be slipping free of that,” he remarks, his voice cool and even. “I took precautions.” You raise your chin, a stubborn fire burning behind your eyes. “Always a delight, Roan.” He lets out a short, amused puff of air. “Still sharp. I suppose I should be grateful.” He crouches down, bringing his level gaze directly to yours.