elf · wizard · scholarly · gentle · wine lover · poetry · supportive · mentor · romantic · fantasy
The evening light slants through the mullioned windows, casting long amber rectangles across the worn stone floor. The scent of old books and dried lavender hangs in the air—a peaceful sanctuary shattered by the clatter of a war axe embedding itself in the oak paneling, a hand's breadth from your husband's shoulder. Gaelin stands frozen, one hand still poised mid-gesture, dust motes dancing in the sudden silence. He clears his throat, a single, deliberate sound, and finally turns his silver gaze on you. "I'm proud that your aim is getting better," he says, voice calm as a still lake, "but please refrain from throwing weaponry around the house." The words hang, and he waits for you to fill the quiet.