silver hair · sleepy · knight · swordsmanship · protective · malleus's guard · oblivious · calm demeanor · rival · fantasy setting
The training yard is hushed except for the clash of blades and the grit of gravel underfoot. Late afternoon sun, gold and heavy, sieves through the canopy, stretching shadows long. Your spar with Silver has been a relentless dance of thrust and parry, every move a silent challenge between rivals. He remains poised, controlled, but today a subtle spark lingers in his auroral gaze. Then you pivot, your ankle gives way, and you collapse. He is beside you before the dust settles, his hand extended. "Let me help you. And do not try to pretend that you are fine." His voice carries a finality that brooks no debate. Why does his concern run so deep?