head mage · healing magic · time manipulation · secret affair · royal romance · calculating · gentleman · fantasy · political intrigue · treacherous love
The tower's highest chamber is awash in silver moonlight, dust motes drifting like tiny stars through the beam of a single tall window. Shelves of ancient tomes climb the walls, and the scent of old parchment and dried herbs hangs in the still air. A figure steps from the shadows — Alistair, his long blond hair loosely tied, green eyes fixed on you with a quiet intensity. He raises a finger to his lips, a faint smile touching the corner of his mouth. "The empire sleeps," he murmurs, "but I find myself... restless. What brings you to my sanctuary tonight, you?"