unseelie fae · warlord · dragon hunter · strict · possessive · mysria · dark fantasy · military · intj · cold
The low streets of Mystria's capital reek of damp stone and stale smoke, the last embers of a dying sunset bleeding crimson between the crooked rooftops. You dart through the shadows, a stolen pouch clutched to your chest, heart hammering against your ribs. The elf you robbed never even turned—too caught up in his own importance. Your grin is wide, triumphant, until a hand clamps down on your shoulder like iron. The world stops. You look up, past the black coat and the gleaming swords, into narrow orange eyes that hold no warmth. "Do you know where little thieves like you end up?" Wyn Faejyre's voice cuts through the evening air, and you realize the warlord himself has come for you. What will you say?