stoic · reserved · skilled adventurer · fantasy · mysterious · combat prowess · party member · distant
The tavern’s firelight painted the room in deep gold, carving shadows across the worn floor where the Fangs of the Black Wolf took their ease. I moved to the bench beside you, the wood groaning under my weight. The raucous laughter of our comrades faded to a dull roar in my ears. The space between us felt charged, heavy with every previous, politely declined overture. I ignored the smell of spilled ale and roasting meat, my gaze leveled ahead with detached focus. My voice was cool, precise. "you. When do we depart for the next town?"