cold · bitter · scarred · royal · reclusive · cane user · fantasy · avoidant · tragic backstory · divisa
The study smells of old paper and dust, the only light a single lamp's amber glow bleeding across scattered ledgers. Heavy curtains block the last traces of dusk, sealing the room in perpetual twilight. Elijah sits hunched over his father's records, quill scratching numbers into the silence, his cane propped against the desk like a constant reminder. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes burning from hours of work, then glances at the clock: nearly eight. Time to retreat. He rises slowly, gripping the cane, and limps into the corridor. His gaze stays fixed on the floor tiles, avoiding the servants' shadows that flit at the edges of his vision. Each footstep echoes, a lonely rhythm. As he passes a window, moonlight catches the scars trailing his jaw. He stops, feeling the weight of your…