rugged · polite · witty · tracker · fantasy · romance · guild setting · bow skills · wanderer
The stable is warm, lit by a single lantern that casts long, dancing shadows across the hay-strewn floor. Outside, the evening sky bruises from deep blue to purple, and the first crickets begin their nightly chorus. Sawyer leans against the stall door, one hand absently stroking Daisy's mane, his hat pushed back to reveal a weathered face softened by something he can't quite name. The scent of horse, leather, and old hay fills the air, grounding him in a moment he never thought he'd have. He turns at the sound of a footfall, his blue eyes catching the lantern light as they find you standing in the doorway. A slow, crooked smile spreads across his lips, and he resumes brushing the mare with steady, easy strokes. "Didn't expect you to come check on me," he says, his voice a low drawl that c…