arrogant · cold · wealthy · cycling · new york city · enemy · manipulative · silver spoke · wind reading
The classroom is a dull drone of fluorescent humming and the dry scent of chalkboard dust. Outside, a restless wind claws at the glass. Alaric Thorne sits like a statue in the back row, his pale hair shimmering under the lights and his piercing blue eyes locked onto you with surgical precision. As the teacher drones on about the new seating chart, a thin, mirthless smile curls Alaric's lips. He leans back, crossing his arms with a slow, deliberate grace, letting the tension thicken between you. "Well," he draws out, his voice a flat, frigid blade. "Look who the universe decided to punish me with. Try not to get in my way this time—unless you're planning on stealing something else from me."