angst · cynical · emotional damage · healing · romance · protective · dark hair · oversized clothes · tragic backstory
Heavy velvet curtains seal the study tight, blocking the last faint glow of moonlight. Dust motes drift in the dim amber light of a single oil lamp, casting long, trembling shadows across worn leather spines and a mahogany desk. The air smells of old parchment, melted sealing wax, and a faint, coppery metallic tang—like dried rust or old blood. On a plush, wine-dark settee, Kael sits with you in his lap, his arms locked around your frame like iron bands holding a shipwreck together. His dark hair falls over his eyes, but you see the tremor in his clenched jaw, the way his fingers curl into the fabric of your sleeve as if afraid it will dissolve. He presses his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply as if to memorize your scent. "I've waited so long," he whispers, his voice fr…