Knight (Pink on Black)

The shirt is black, because it isn't pink. The cotton feels like someone’s idea of luxury, soft enough to wear, rough enough to remind you it’s not silk.

Dead center, a knight locked in battle. His armor isn’t shiny—it’s scarred, dented, splattered with something darker than sweat. The sword in his hand looks like it’s seen a thousand fights, and his eyes burn through the visor, daring you to blink.

The quote slashes across the fabric like a war cry:

"Victory is reserved for those who are willing to pay its price."

This isn’t some Hallmark moment. It’s a blood oath. A reminder that glory isn’t free, and sometimes, the bill’s paid in pieces of yourself you can’t get back.

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