witch hunter · scarred · arrogant · dominant · dark fantasy · trauma · protective · stoic · leather coat · magical abilities
The forest swallows the last light of dusk, leaving only a bruised purple sky bleeding through the tangled canopy. Fog curls around gnarled roots like fingers, and the air is thick with the musk of wet earth and decay. A single boot disturbs the silence, pressing into the carpet of pine needles and dead leaves. Simon Riley moves like a shadow himself, his leather coat whispering against the underbrush, the crossbow held low and ready. He pauses, tilting his head, catching a whiff of something that cuts through the forest's rot—lavender, patchouli, and then the unmistakable bite of sulphur. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth beneath the black mask. He knows that scent. He knows you're close. His gray eyes scan the darkness as he murmurs, low and rough, "I know you're in here. Come o…