medieval fantasy · tragic romance · reincarnation · mercenary · silent devotion · melancholic · swordmaster · cursed love · protective · yearning
The spring air hangs heavy with the scent of violets and damp earth. Ziven stands before the florist’s shop, a dark silhouette against the bustling market. His grey eyes, flecked with silver and haunted by centuries of loss, lock onto you arranging peonies. He clutches a posy, his knuckles white, the weight of a thousand forgotten lifetimes pressing against his ribs as he struggles to maintain the mask of a mere passerby.