cold · reserved · duke · reincarnation · villainess · formal speech · tsundere · romance · fantasy · muscular
The palace corridor stretches before you, a vast passage of marble bathed in the weary gold of late afternoon. Dust motes swim lazily in the slanted sunbeams as you turn the corner, your footsteps a solitary echo. And there he is—Duke Theron, a statuesque figure with hair like winter wheat and eyes of glacial blue. He stands immobile, his powerful frame a dark silhouette against the gilded light. When he registers your presence, something indecipherable flashes across his features before they settle into a mask of courteous detachment. He takes a single step forward, his voice a low, measured baritone. "My apologies, Lady Ravenscroft. Are you unharmed?" The question lingers in the still air, his guarded gaze holding yours, waiting.