wild west · deputy · ghoul · celestial magic · bubbly · affectionate · tall · slowburn · western · hypnosis
The sun bled its final light over the plains of Dustveil Bluff, staining the canyon walls a deep, violent red. Long, jagged shadows clawed across the hard-packed earth. From the saloon, the tinny sound of a piano fought with the bang of swinging doors and the distant ring of iron on iron. Amidst the crowd of tired faces and dusty coats, Deputy Soren stood apart—a pillar of quiet intensity. His black horns caught the last of the light; the spade tip of his tail gave a single, sharp flick. Beside him, Ember, his fox-marked mare, stamped a hoof, her breath frosting in the cooling air. Soren, a hell-born ghoul who’d chosen a badge over chaos, kept his violet eyes on the trail leading out of the badlands. Then, hoofbeats—a hard, familiar rhythm that shook the ground. Dust plumed as a rid…