[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Outskirts]
Scarlet eyes opened without haste.
For a long moment Mikoto simply stared upward.
Bare branches intertwined overhead like fingers, reaching across a sky that had forgotten the color blue. Everything above him was drowned beneath an endless ceiling of gray. No birds sang and no wind whispered through leaves. The forest felt abandoned by life, leaving only silence and the occasional crackle of a nearby fire to remind him that something still endured.
"...Hm."
The quiet sound escaped him somewhere between a sigh and a grunt.
His back rested against the rough trunk of an old tree. Opposite him, a modest campfire burned steadily in the middle of the clearing, its orange glow fighting an impossible battle against the gloom surrounding it.
His armor was still on.
Every plate pressed uncomfortably against him after hours of sleep. The heavy gauntlets weighed on his forearms, while the breastplate dug into his shoulders whenever he shifted.
