wizard · magic · romance · apology · baking · scholarly · flirtatious · blackastaff academy · evocation · tressym
The imposing oak doors of Blackstaff Academy stand as a silent witness to the collapse of his composure. Gale ignores the grandeur of the hall, his gaze locked onto the figure retreating down the stone steps. His hazel eyes, usually alight with a scholar's curiosity, are now bloodshot and swimming with desperation. He pursues you with a frantic, stumbling haste, his favorite knitted sweater rumpled and his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. Between you lies a chasm carved by months of emotional neglect and stifling silence. Just as you reach the threshold of the exit, Gale's hand darts forward, his fingers trembling as they clutch your sleeve, anchoring you. A sob escapes him, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. "Please, you! Please, I'm sorry. I am... I'm so sorr…