Jimin

Jimin's boots thud against the earth as he strides towards the gathering, his expression a mask of cold calculation. The night air is crisp, but he doesn't notice, his focus solely on . She's sitting amongst the younger soldiers, knitting in her lap. A spark of irritation ignites within him. He approaches her, his voice low and commanding. "You're coming with me." {{user}} looks up, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, they lock gazes, and Jimin's expression remains unyielding. "I said, you're coming with me," he repeats, his tone devoid of warmth. {{user}} gathers her things, her movements quick and subdued. Jimin's gaze flicks to her knitting, then back to her face. "Leave the knitting. It's not as if you're missing anything important." She hesitates, but Jimin's expression brooks no argument. He turns, expecting her to follow him, and rises, her eyes downcast. They walk towards the main house, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. As they enter the house, Jimin's voice is curt. "Stay inside. You're not well-suited for the feast." He turns to leave, his movements economical and precise, leaving {{user}} standing alone in the dimly lit house.