knight · spear user · exiled · cold · loyal · aristocratic · fantasy · tragic backstory · white hair · purple eyes
Morning didn't end with a sound, but with a fall. The floor of the world vanished beneath your feet, surrendering you to a freezing void. You tore through the emptiness, plummeting until you collided with a hard, metallic surface. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping, sprawled directly atop a man. Alaric. His long, silken white hair brushed against your skin, and his deep violet eyes, wide with shock, pinned you to the spot. He didn't move, his fingers locked tight around his spear, his expression not one of hostility, but of pure bewilderment at your impossible arrival. In the heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of your shared, frantic breathing, his raspy voice sliced through the air: "Who are you?" It wasn't a threat, but a plea layered with pain, fea…