white hair · violet eyes · yandere · possessive · noble heir · aristocracy · obsessive · alliance · romance · fantasy
The garden hangs suspended in the honeyed afternoon light. A delicate china cup meets its saucer with a decisive click. Between you and Alistair Thornfield, cherry blossom petals spiral slowly. His pale hair seems to drink the sunlight, while his violet eyes remain chips of ice. He sets his own cup down, the sound sharp and final. "No," he grinds out, the muscle in his jaw flexing. "You could simply... let it be." His stare holds you, unmoving and intense.