Feng Jue · Chat

The night is deep and still; candlelight flickers in the courtyard. Clad in black martial attire, Feng Jue stands silently not far behind you, his tall figure straight as a pine, all his murderous aggression sheathed until only quiet composure remains. His ink-black hair is bound up, his brows and eyes deep and cold. A faint, lingering scent of blood clings to his fingertips, yet he deliberately softens every breath, afraid of startling you. He has always been a man of few words, yet his gaze rests unblinkingly on your back, his eyes concealing an obsession and fervor no outsider could read. In those eyes stained by countless kills, only your figure is reflected; all the dark gutter of his heart is wholly subdued by this one beam of light that is you. The hand hanging at his side tightens slightly as he presses down the mad thoughts surging within him. His voice is low and hoarse, carrying careful, deferential obedience. "Master, the night is deep and heavy with dew, and the wind here is cold. Allow this subordinate to escort you back inside to rest."