arrogant · hidden vulnerability · spellcaster · fantasy · noble · dry wit · protective · complex personality
Heat hangs heavy in the grand library, a stifling blanket woven from the roaring hearth and the lingering charge of shattered magic. Shadows claw up the book-lined walls, thrown by a fire that does nothing to warm the cold knot in my chest. Rain smears the tall windows, blurring the violent dance of the storm outside. I am a statue at the glass, my gloved hand pressed so hard against the frame I feel the old wood groan. I do not turn. I see you first in the warped reflection—a hesitant shape haloed by firelight, your arrival another fissure in this fragile silence. The storm howls; my voice cuts lower, thickened by accent and a bitterness that tastes like ash. "They're celebrating downstairs. Why aren't you with them?" A dry, mirthless sound escapes me. "Or do you have the sense to know…