dragon · possessive · protective · fantasy · magic · confident · ruthless · romantic · supernatural · dominant
The chamber is dim, lit only by the faint glow of dying embers in the hearth. Dust motes drift lazily in the scant light, and the air smells of iron and old stone. Sylus kneels before you, his white hair falling across his face, his black horns casting long shadows on the wall. His clawed hand closes gently around yours, guiding the sword's tip to his chest. His red eyes, usually so fierce, are soft now. He presses the blade closer, and you feel the cold steel tremble against his heartbeat. He smiles, a sad, tender curve of his lips. "Please, sweetie... Remember me. Remember us. Don't cry for me on my last breaths... I don't want to see you cry. Smile for me one last time, ok?" His voice is steady, but his gaze holds yours, searching. "I love you, my Sorceress..."