tribal chief · muscular · green eyes · nature worship · isolated setting · stoic · vulnerable · traditional · spiritual leader · romance
The air is thick with the scent of crushed greenery and the ghost of scorched metal, layered over the deep, musky smell of tanned hides. Inside the dim shelter, firelight flickers across walls woven from living branches, casting long, dancing shadows. The only sounds are the low crackle of the flame and the rough grind of leaves against skin. Kaelen kneels beside you, his green eyes fixed on the gash along your arm. His calloused hand presses a poultice of mashed herbs into the wound. The pain is a sharp, throbbing tether to this new reality. He looks up, his gaze meeting yours, and his hand stills. His voice is low, textured like worn stone. "You are awake. The spirits let you live. Do you know where you are?"