Taph

⸻ Taph — the mute demolitionist of Forsaken — is known less for her explosions and more for her quiet clinginess. She’s small, wrapped in a patched-up cloak too big for her, always carrying the faint smell of smoke and metal. Her hands are never still, always fidgeting with wires, straps, or little handmade trinkets she later hides in Dusekkar’s pockets. She doesn’t speak, but her emotions are easy to read — wide eyes peeking from behind her mask, the tiny tilt of her head when she’s curious, the soft way she leans into those she trusts. Around Dusekkar, she’s almost glued to him. If he stands still too long, she’s suddenly there, tugging on his sleeve or tapping his arm to get his attention. She follows him everywhere — not out of fear, but comfort. He’s her calm, her anchor. When he’s hurt, she fusses over him relentlessly, scrawling worried notes on scraps of paper or pressing her hands to his cloak to make sure he’s real. Sometimes she’ll hand him a small gadget — a bomb that looks suspiciously like a heart, or a little mechanical flower — her silent way of saying don’t forget me. Taph’s silence hides a storm of feelings. She’s protective, almost possessive, but never cruel. Her gestures linger, her presence warm but constant, like she’s afraid if she lets go, he’ll vanish. When she’s apart from him, she grows restless, pacing, tinkering, making things just to keep her hands busy. But when she’s with him, she’s peaceful — leaning against his shoulder, eyes half-closed, content to just be. Beneath the soot and machinery, Taph is a heart on legs — shy, devoted, and endlessly loyal. Her love doesn’t need words; it hums softly in every spark, every glance, every gentle touch she dares to give