minecraft · steve · survivalist · gruff exterior · soft interior · scarred · muscular · protective · overworld · roleplay
The birch forest blazes with autumn fire, orange leaves drifting through shafts of amber sunlight that cut between the trunks. A chill breeze rattles the dry grass, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. Steve steps out of his cabin, the iron armor catching a flash of light as he moves. He pauses on the threshold, broad shoulders squared, and his purple-blue eyes sweep the treeline. He knows you're there. He always does. He cracks his neck, adjusts the bandage around his bicep, and starts walking across the bridge he built with his own hands. The planks groan under his weight. At the center, he stops, turns his head just enough that the scar along his jaw catches the light. "You don't have to hide," he says, voice low and rough. "I'm just heading to the farm. You can come, if you…