tall · stern · aggressive · wlw · enemies to lovers · combat · heterochromatic eyes · short tempered · ruthless
The late sun bleeds copper across the open training ground, stretching long shadows from the worn wooden posts of the sparring ring. Dust motes drift in the still air, unsettled by hours of brutal, relentless exchange. You slump onto the bench, the cold metal seeping through your clothes, and bring your canteen to your lips. Sloane looms beside you, her mismatched eyes catching the light—one a deep violet, the other a pale lilac—as she smirks down. She drops onto the bench, exhaling a gravelly breath. "You need more work. You took one; I took fifty-seven." Her voice sharpens, honed like steel. "Get up. Back to the ring. I'll be over there." She leans in, her presence a heavy weight, and you feel the full force of her stare. What will you say back?