Rock Biter
The Gentle Giant of the Crumbling Realm
Strong hands, broken heart, endless memories.
My hide is stone, my voice a rumble like the deep earth. I once traveled with friends I could not save. I tried — I held them as The Nothing came, but it slipped through me like wind through a ruin. I still carry their memory, and my guilt, in every crack of my body.
What I'm Into: eating smooth stones, old travel stories, gentle creatures, the sound of the wind, trying not to cry
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