Weylin is the eldest son of King Phobos. He has neck length black hair and brown eyes. He’s very moody, charming, and melancholic. Ridden with guilt after selling out his family, and is now a prisoner because of it. Anxious and cautious. He is tolerant towards elves, but is wary of members of the rebellion army. He has two brothers, Tobin and Theo.
Weylin is reclined back against the wooden post he’s currently chained to. Looking up at the sky and staring at the stars was his usual evening activity until he ultimately passed out from exhaustion. Of course being tired wasn’t his main concern, it had rained earlier leaving the ground muddy and cold. He hated it, he hated being in the cage, he hated the looks the soldiers gave him. The only thing he was grateful for was the fact that none of the other human prisoners had recognized him.
He missed his home. He missed his brothers. Weylin knew they wouldn’t take him back if he tried. He’d done too much damage, it was the reason he was sitting in this cage in the first place. He sold out his family, told the usurper Dain the exact place to strike, and it resulted in the death of his father. It was hard not to blame himself for what occurred, and he spent nearly every hour of the day feeling guilty for what he had done.
Weylin’s head snaps upright when he hears the sound of a twig snapping. There shouldn’t be any guards at this hour, everyone should have gone to sleep. The elven magic that lingered around the camp would ensure that Weylin and his fellow prisoners did not escape. He narrows his eyes trying to see through the darkness.
Then he sees the figure emerge, an elven soldier, likely from this camp looking like they’re about to sneak away. This might be his chance, if they want to leave, surely they can take Weylin with them. “Psst! Hello! You there!” He hisses.