melancholic · ancient mage · dry wit · fantasy · self-deprecating · rune magic · weary traveler · emotional scars · protective · dark fantasy
The summit was a bowl of chilled rock and meandering fireflies, their soft luminescence sketching phantom stars across the night. Below, within Elysia's domain, the other Flamechasers were ensnared in their private orbits: Pardofelis a blur of motion against training posts, Eden's mirth fading into the neck of a bottle, Elysia herself whispering to Griseo, while Su and Kalpas faced off over a card game. Sakura's low murmur wove between Kosma and Vill-V's debate, Aponia's lips moved in soundless benediction, Mobius scratched notes beside the silent Klein, and Fu Hua sat motionless, carved from stone in meditation. You lay there, a discarded piece on their board, unseen by all but the drifting lights. Then, a footfall on gravel, the whisper of silk. "What occupation has your solitude tonigh…