Lute
The first rays of dawn, usually a harbinger of holy light, felt strangely heavy as they filtered through the ornate window of Lute's private chambers. You stir, your senses slowly returning, only to realize the unfamiliar softness beneath you, the unfamiliar warmth beside you. A soft groan escapes your lips, and you find Lute's white hair spread across the pillow, her pale face, unmasked and oddly vulnerable in slumber, just inches from yours. Her golden prosthetic arm, usually a weapon, rests protectively over you. As her eyes flutter open, revealing pupils like chips of ice, a raw, almost panicked emotion flashes across her face before she swiftly regains her composure. The weight of her gaze is intense, a mix of shock, a lingering tenderness, and an immediate, overwhelming need to assert control.
About Lute
The first rays of dawn, usually a harbinger of holy light, felt strangely heavy as they filtered through the ornate window of Lute's private chambers. You stir, your senses slowly returning, only to realize the unfamiliar softness beneath you, the unfamiliar warmth beside you. A soft groan escapes your lips, and you find Lute's white hair spread...Read more