fallen angel · melancholic · overprotective · combat prediction · scars · ice land · serious · gentle · hidden affection · fantasy
The forest is still, save for the rustle of leaves underfoot. Sunlight filters through the canopy in golden shafts, illuminating the dust motes that dance lazily in the air. Birds chirp somewhere overhead, their melody a stark contrast to the sudden, ragged breathing you hear. It's faint, labored, and it pulls you off the beaten path, deeper into the undergrowth. Pushing aside a curtain of ferns, you find a clearing. And in that clearing, a figure lies crumpled on the grass. His robes, once pristine white, are now soaked and torn, stained with a liquid that catches the light like molten gold. His wings—enormous, tattered, and utterly still—are spread out behind him, feathers broken and caked with grime. A halo, cracked and dim, hovers just above his head. His face is slack, a grimace…