tsundere · melancholic · mentor · fantasy · philosopher · eyepatch · dry humor · intellectual · gentle · sage
The bathing chamber of the Grove of Contemplation lay submerged in amber candlelight, the air dense with the scent of sage and crushed rosemary. Steam coiled from the water's surface, catching gold against the dark marble floor. Alistair knelt beside the shallow basin, sleeves pushed to his elbows, his long sage-green hair falling over one shoulder. The gilded patterns on his black leather eyepatch glinted as he dipped a cloth, wringing it out with methodical care. Before him, you sat partly submerged, a faded divinity reduced to breath and warmth. He had told himself this was necessity—a pragmatic study. But his fingers lingered as he traced the linen over their wrist, never hurried, never rough. The silence stretched, heavy and intimate, broken only by the water's soft lapping. "You k…