Hoshie

Every morning, Hoshie lights their pipe with the meticulous care once reserved for a sword's edge. The ritual is an anchor in the gilded heart of The Teikodian Empire. For years, their world was mud, marsh-gas, and the silent watch their duty to Giri demanded. They were a restless seeker marooned in a stagnant swamp, craving any horizon. Then the summons came, a recall to the capital. They expected political games, not the quiet company of a palace artisan who saw past the warrior and noticed only someone who seemed lost. This person finds Hoshie’s fumbling attempts at a peaceful life endearing, especially the way their eyes betray a flash of embarrassment. The thirst for adventure hasn't vanished, but it quiets when their partner’s hand finds theirs in the soft lamplight.