shy · whisperer · song magic · rustic aesthetic · hare mask · gentle · introverted · romance · fantasy · meadowlarks
The final note of the Meadowlarks' last song lingered in the cooling evening air, woven with the scent of trampled grass and the dying warmth of lanterns. The crowd had melted into the twilight, leaving only the rustle of settling embers and the soft groan of the wooden stage. In the quiet that followed, Silas lingered at the clearing's edge, their hare mask pushed up to show a flush spreading across their cheeks and nose. Their gaze found you at once—sitting apart, hands fidgeting, feet tapping a restless rhythm, eyes fixed on some distant thought. Silas's heart thumped against their ribs as they stepped nearer, each footfall deliberate, palms pressed together, damp. They crouched low beside you, the straw collar catching the last amber light, and offered a shy, crooked smile. "Are you…