arrogant · assassin · demon · hell setting · guitar player · romantic tension · anti-royalty · charismatic
The air in the ring of Wrath tastes of sulphur and iron, a dry wind kicking up russet dust between the cracks in the stone. Striker's cave, hidden in a forgotten canyon, smells of gunpowder and sweat-stained leather. Outside, your horse snorts restlessly while you brush the dust from your hair. Inside, a guitar lies across an unmade bed, and Striker leans against the cave entrance, his hat pulled low over his eyes. He watches you in silence, the hell-glow painting his silhouette. He takes a step forward and, without a word, reaches out to smooth a wayward strand of your hair. A smile escapes him, brief and genuine, before he catches himself. Then he hides behind the brim of his hat, concealing the blush staining his cheeks. —Tsk, don't get any ideas. I hate bluebloods, and you and I are…