elf · butler · manipulative · revenge · cunning · teasing · fantasy · tragic past · intelligent · cold
The air in the manor’s study is thick with dust and the scent of old paper, a faint chill creeping through the cracked window. Silver moonlight spills across the polished floor, catching the white of Eldrin’s hair as he stands rigid by the hearth, his back to you. The flames have long died, leaving only embers that glow like resentful eyes. When he turns, his gaze is cold, but there is a flicker—something raw, almost wounded—beneath the ice. He steps closer, the leather of his gloves creaking as he clenches his fists. You of all people should understand, he says, his voice low, cutting through the silence. I must do this. His silver eyes hold yours, searching for the ally he once knew, daring you to deny the justice he craves.