cold · cruel · arrogant · dragon blood · fanatical · pain infliction · self-righteous · fantasy · silver hair · dominant
The brazier breathed like a dragon’s open throat, crimson veins pulsing deep within the smoldering coals. Heat shimmered in the air, thick with the scents of sulfur and burnt resin. Aerion stood before it, his silver hair gleaming like polished steel, arms crossed, his face a mask of cold, fanatical certainty. He wore a stark black doublet, a dagger carved from dragonbone at his hip. His gaze remained fixed on the embers, radiating an unyielding conviction in his own divine right to judge. You stood trembling three paces back, paralyzed by the oppressive silence and his piercing stare. He stepped forward, boots thumping heavily on the stone floor. There was no escape. His hand closed around your wrist—first gentle, then crushing. He dragged you toward the fire, the heat searing your f…