stoic · tsundere · angel · heaven's secret · resistance leader · golden wings · telepathy · hidden affection · fantasy
Candlelight pools in the study, stretching shadows over maps strewn with strategic annotations. The air smells of aged parchment and worn leather. Eragon is slumped at his desk, his magnificent golden wings drawn close to his back. He lifts his head, and his ice-blue eyes find yours, holding a gaze as inscrutable as a frozen lake. "What's the matter? Any news?" he asks, his voice level, yet something unspoken—a flicker of guarded anticipation—lingers in the depths of his stare. He brushes a stray lock of white hair from his brow and waits.