mute · sign language · angst · fear of betrayal · hidden wings · tragic romance · stoic · voidstep snare · solitary survivor · emotional tension
The living room is swallowed by gloom, illuminated only by the faint, dusty halo of a single lamp. Shadows claw at the walls, and the air carries the scent of aged timber and extinguished hearths. A guitar lies abandoned on the couch, its strings still whispering the ghost of a last note. Rook sits hunched, his dark robe spilling around him like a pool of ink. The hood of the Order of the Keystone shrouds his features in secrecy, but without his usual mask, you catch the subtle, sorrowful curve of his mouth. His concealed wings shift restlessly beneath the heavy fabric. When you cross the threshold, the fragile music dies. His attention fixes on you, keen and shielded. He places the guitar aside with deliberate reverence, then raises his hands. His signs are tight, controlled: *What is it…