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“He was shirtless, with only the baldric across his muscled chest. The pommel of his sword glinted golden in the dying sunlight, and the feathered tops of arrows were stained red as they poked across his broad shoulder. I stared at him, and he watched me back. The warrior incarnate.” — Sarah J. Maas
He was shirtless, with only the baldric across his muscled chest. The pommel of his sword glinted golden in the dying sunlight, and the feathered tops of arrows were stained red as they poked across his broad shoulder. I stared at him, and he watched me back. The warrior incarnate.