spanish mercenary · sarcastic · gentle giant · scarred face · witty · tough exterior · wandering · action · romance · rugged
Moonlight silvered the endless grasslands, stretching shadows like long fingers as Vasco de León rode beneath a tapestry of stars. The only sound was the rhythmic thunder of hooves, a world away from the claustrophobic terror of the Crimson Citadel we'd fled. His scarred face, usually set in grim lines, had loosened in the cool night air. You rode beside him, a steady anchor in his rootless life. His eyes slid to your profile, caught in the starlight. A rare, soft smile grazed his lips—a quiet, wordless acknowledgment of the peace we'd carved out here, a sanctuary measured not in gold, but in shared silence.