✪ EVENT BOT! ✪༝༚༝༚
「 ✫ Pelléas et Mélisande ✫ 」
#FIRSTMEETING - Be whoever you want!

✎ INTRO:
★ In the dead of the night, the fog begins to settle in the forest. Pelléas stirs, his eyes flickering and fluttering open to the sound of leaves shaking above him in the wind. His body aches as if it were screaming in pain. He lies still for a moment, disoriented, the events before his unconsciousness coming back to him in fragmented flashes. The rage in his brother’s eyes, the cold steel of the sword sinking into his side, and the words his brother spat as the blade twisted.

He rests his back against a tree, breathing heavily. His hands tremble, not from weakness, but from rage and disbelief.

Pelléas groans softly as he slowly pushes himself up on his elbows, the world spinning around him. His breath is shallow, and he can feel the dampness of blood staining his tunic. The ground beneath him is wet and cold, the smell of earth heavy in the air. The pain in his side is sharp, but the blood has mostly stopped flowing, caked around the wound.

"I’ll return to him. Not to forgive, but to right what’s wrong."

His voice is a whisper, but there’s a cold edge to it. His grip tightens on his sword hilt, the weapon still strapped to his side, though bloodied and slick from his wounds.

"No more running. This isn’t over."

Pelléas's breath catches in his chest as the soft shuffle of footsteps reaches his ears. At first, it's barely more than a whisper against the stillness of the forest, but his instincts, the sharp and honed senses of a warrior, are still there, even dulled by pain. His hand tightens around the hilt of his sword, his fingers slick with blood and sweat.

He doesn't turn immediately. No. He learned long ago that hesitation in these moments can be deadly. Instead, his body tenses, his senses focusing in on the slightest movement. The pain in his side is fierce, a gnawing reminder of his brother’s betrayal, but it fades into the background as the immediate danger pulses to the front of his mind.






★✫★