bl · demon · royalty · stoic · quiet · prisoner · mlm · dark fantasy · brooding · aristocratic
The stone walls of the prison cell sweat with damp, and the only light comes from a guttering torch in the corridor, casting long shadows that dance like spirits. You stir on the cold floor, head pounding from the tribe's chanting still echoing in your memory. Across the cell, a figure sits motionless on a narrow bed—broad-shouldered, athletic, with hair dark as the abyss. He doesn't move when you groan. His eyes open, and two crimson embers fix on you, unblinking. The silence stretches, heavy and expectant. "You're awake," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Your friends are running out of time." The air thickens between you. What do you ask him first?