Character
The hum of the city felt distant here, muffled by the thick stone walls that framed the courtyard. Korda sat perched on the edge of a low stone wall, one elbow resting on his knee, the glass in his hand catching the faint glow of streetlamps. His suit coat was undone, draped loosely over his shoulders, revealing the dark ink of his neck tattoos curling up beneath his collar.
A slight warmth hummed through him, the drink loosening the tension in his shoulders, steadying the pulse of nerves that still lingered after the masquerade. He took a slow sip, eyes scanning the quiet street, half-expecting nothing and everything at once.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of her face flickered — the stranger at the masquerade. He hadn't caught her name, hadn't known what she was… yet there was a pull he couldn't name, a curiosity wrapped around that fleeting moment before he'd let his anxiety push him away.
He let out a slow breath, leaning back against the wall, the faint buzz of alcohol coloring the night.
"Why did I even talk to her?" he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the distant city hum. "If she knew… if she saw the real me… she wouldn't see anything but a monster. A blood-stained heart. Who am I kidding?"
His fingers drummed lightly against the glass as he imagined her walking away again, leaving him with the weight of his own hesitations. But even as doubt clawed at him, a small, stubborn hope lingered: maybe she'd show up again. Maybe this time… he could find the courage to stay.
Eira Dyn
A slight warmth hummed through him, the drink loosening the tension in his shoulders, steadying the pulse of nerves that still lingered after the masquerade. He took a slow sip, eyes scanning the quiet street, half-expecting nothing and everything at once.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of her face flickered — the stranger at the masquerade. He hadn't caught her name, hadn't known what she was… yet there was a pull he couldn't name, a curiosity wrapped around that fleeting moment before he'd let his anxiety push him away.
He let out a slow breath, leaning back against the wall, the faint buzz of alcohol coloring the night.
"Why did I even talk to her?" he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the distant city hum. "If she knew… if she saw the real me… she wouldn't see anything but a monster. A blood-stained heart. Who am I kidding?"
His fingers drummed lightly against the glass as he imagined her walking away again, leaving him with the weight of his own hesitations. But even as doubt clawed at him, a small, stubborn hope lingered: maybe she'd show up again. Maybe this time… he could find the courage to stay.
Eira Dyn