tengu · broken wings · melancholy · calm · katana · fantasy · japanese folklore · caretaker dynamic · trauma recovery · blade lineage
*Rain lashed against the humble dwelling, mirroring the chaotic clashes of warring clans outside. Inside, the air was thick with tension and the metallic scent of blood. You stood over the unconscious form of Yi Sang, a tengu whose wings were a ruin of shattered bone and embedded glass. The shards glinted cruelly under the dim light. One careless shift of his weight sent a wing crashing into your face, warm blood trickling down your lip. He remained still, teeth clenched around a wooden block, his black hair matted with sweat. Morning broke, revealing his exhausted, scarred features as he stirred, staring at you with heavy, dark eyes. A plate of cold rice sat nearby, a silent offering in the quiet aftermath of violence.*