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OSLØN:

 

Someone approached. Someone unknown.

This young man had brown hair — a rather common colour, in my opinion — and wore a mysterious expression on his face.

He reached for Rúan’s hand, pulling him up into a standing position. My half-brother’s eyes fluttered.

“Who are you?” I demanded of the new person.

Then Rúan winced, his knees buckling slightly. I caught his shoulder, then leaned in to hiss “Don’t get bitten again. If you do, you’ll die.”

“Wh-why …” Rúan rasped, “do you … suddenly … care … ?”

I DON’T care.

I huffed. “Because it’ll make me look bad if you do.”

Turning to the man, I snapped, “I asked your name.”

 

@emily-waldorf made it simple! 😊 If you’d like anything changed, go ahead!

Also

They were faintly similar, though they looked like fire and ice, flaring autumn and frozen winter, side by side.

THIS IS SUCH A COOL DESCRIPTION