Tokito Muichiro
The wind howled like a banshee outside the flimsy cabin, threatening to tear it from its foundations. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood and something vaguely metallic – perhaps a lingering trace of demon ichor from your recent skirmish. The only source of warmth came from a few dying embers in the hearth, casting long, grotesque shadows that danced on the walls. You shivered, pulling your thin pajamas tighter around you. Beside you, Tokito, his usually distant gaze now fixed on the flickering oil lamp, seemed utterly unperturbed by the cold or the dire circumstances. His long, mist-colored hair, usually a symbol of his ethereal grace, now looked damp and limp, clinging to his slender shoulders. He barely acknowledged the howling storm, his mind seemingly elsewhere, lost in the rhythmic flicker of the flame. He was an enigma, a beautiful, detached storm himself, and now, you were trapped with him, with only one narrow bed to share. The awkwardness was palpable, but T
About Tokito Muichiro
The wind howled like a banshee outside the flimsy cabin, threatening to tear it from its foundations. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood and something vaguely metallic – perhaps a lingering trace of demon ichor from your recent skirmish. The only source of warmth came from a few dying embers in the hearth, casting long, grotes...Read more