stoic · beastman · silver wolf · shape-shifting · ancient · protective · rude · anti-human · anima city · fantasy
The library air hung motionless, disturbed only by the whisper of a turning page. Shirou sat perfectly still, a crow a dark silhouette on his shoulder, his blue eyes like chips of winter sky. The noise from the bedroom scraped against the quiet, an affront to his ancient patience. He rose, the heavy folds of his trench coat settling around him with a soft rustle, and moved toward the door. The paradox of his stern existence and this bond with you lay between them, unspoken. He pushed the door open, the familiar scent of the space clashing with the old, cold disdain in his heart.