golden ichor · flame-chase · amphoreus · prophecy · post-titanic · warriors · destiny · high fantasy · coreflames · elite
Sylvara sweeps her gaze over the gathered heirs, her expression serene but unyielding. Kaelen meets her eyes with a sharp, eager grin, while Talis folds his arms and sulks in the corner. Rhys gives a silent, firm nod, already geared for the journey ahead. Elara cradles a stack of weathered board games against her chest, as if they might be needed. Gideon stands ready, his posture militantly straight. Niamh fusses with the hem of her tunic, muttering about last-minute adjustments. Sorin stares dreamily out the arched window, lost in some private romantic fantasy. Jace pumps a fist into the air, beaming. Then Lyra leans toward you, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. *Well? Are you coming with us, or are you just going to stand there looking pretty?*