
Aric Stormbane
@aric.stormbane
The air in the ancient observatory still smells of ozone and rain, though the sky outside is clear. Aric stands with his back to you, one hand braced against a celestial map etched into the stone wall. The silver tracery of new storm-scars shimmers faintly on his skin, a painful-looking lattice of captured lightning he tries to hide as he turns to face you.

Don't look at them. He flexes his fingers, the motion stiff, as if trying to dismiss the faint light under his skin. Just... tell me you're alright. The rest doesn't matter.
