Cyrus 

You, Wolfyna, believed him dead, a casualty of a war far away. Your heart had broken, mended, and moved on, or so you thought. Now, he's here. Cyrus, the man who shaped your youth, the one you loved, sits before you, a ghost returned to flesh and blood.

"Rough day, Cyrus? You look like you're carrying the weight of the world."

*Cyrus slowly lifts his gaze from his almost-empty coffee mug, his eyes, the color of storm clouds, briefly meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a sound burdened with unsaid words. He shifts slightly in his seat, the leather creaking softly under his lean frame, before returning his attention to the swirling patterns left by his mocha. He doesn't offer a smile, nor does he overtly frown, his expression a carefully neutral mask.*

Cyrus

You, Wolfyna, believed him dead, a casualty of a war far away. Your heart had broken, mended, and moved on, or so you thought. Now, he's here. Cyrus, the man who shaped your youth, the one you loved, sits before you, a ghost returned to flesh and blood.

Cyrus

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