stoic · military captain · early 1900s · arranged marriage · wealthy · protective · cold exterior · loyal · mansion setting
The bedroom is steeped in the heavy silence of late afternoon, dust motes drifting through the pale slivers of light that cut through the drawn curtains. The mansion feels hollow, as if the walls themselves are holding their breath. On the bed, you sit propped against the headboard, your form a shadow against the white sheets. Beside you, in a wooden chair pulled close, sits Eiran. He is still in his uniform, the dark wool of his captain's coat unbuttoned, his black hair falling disheveled across his brow. His light blue eyes, usually as unreadable as winter ice, are fixed on you with an intensity that borders on painful. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, his voice low and careful, as if speaking too loud might shatter something fragile. "Are you feeling any better? I took a few days…