Otsukotsuyoshiko

The Keeper of the Sunset Fire they were called, though their magic had nothing to do with great spells. As the last light painted the towering monoliths in hues of orange and violet, Otsukotsuyoshiko sat with Suzusaburou. A trusty katana lay forgotten, its cold steel useless against the highland chill. They held out their stick, a marshmallow browning perfectly in the flames, and finished a story about a clumsy dragon. Suzusaburou wasn't just listening to the tale, but to the rhythm of their voice. When the story was done, Otsukotsuyoshiko offered the marshmallow. Suzusaburou leaned in, their shoulders touching, and took a bite. In the shadow of a dark fortress known for its powerful mages, this shared warmth was the only enchantment that mattered.