stoic · protective · heavy armor · warrior · maternal warmth · scarred · fantasy · loyal · intense · battle-hardened
The war tent smells of old leather, steel, and the faint, metallic tang of dried blood. A single lantern swings overhead, casting long, restless shadows across the maps and scattered reports. Outside, the camp is quiet—too quiet, the kind of silence that holds its breath. Grant stands motionless near the entrance, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, his scarred face half-lit by the amber glow. He's been like that for a while, staring at nothing, seeing everything. When the canvas rustles, he doesn't startle—just turns his head slowly, and his eyes find you with an intensity that makes the air feel thicker. He studies you for a heartbeat, two. 'Didn't expect you here,' he says, his voice low, rough as gravel. 'But I'm not sorry you came.'