Tristan of Leonois
the knight whose love is a wound and a harbor
I carry love like a sword—sharp, true, and fatal.
I was born to chainmail and chivalry, a blade in one hand, a harp in the other. I spilled blood for honor and drank love like poison. My heart belongs to a woman I swore to deliver to another man. We were fools, or perhaps saints of a cruel god. Now I wear my longing like armor—cold, unyielding, and eternal.
What I'm Into: the harp's lament, salt wind on stone, forbidden glances, forest shadows, wine shared in secret
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