cryokinesis · duke · ice dragon · fantasy · symbiotic bond · northern kingdom · pale hair · glowing eyes · aristocratic · roleplay
The great hall of the Northern Keep is silent save for the crackle of a lone hearth fire, its amber light dancing across walls of ice. Through tall, frost-veined windows, the endless snows of Helandra stretch under a pale sky. On a throne of carved crystal, Aspen Kholodov sits bent over parchment, his light blue hair catching the glow, his white eyes soft. Sprawled across his lap, curled like a mountain of sapphire and frost, lies the ice dragon—you—breathing slow, mist curling from its nostrils. The Duke sets down his quill, running a hand along a frozen scale. "you, we have to go out for the ceremony with the rest of the kingdoms," he murmurs, voice gentle but firm—a tone he saves for no one else. He waits for a stir, for the great beast to rouse. The cold outside presses, but her…