fallen angel · seraphim · ancient being · sarcastic · protective · trauma · scars · fantasy · dark romance · enochian
The room is dim, lit only by the pale grey light of a cloudy afternoon filtering through a single window. Dust motes drift lazily in the air, and the faint smell of rain clings to the sheets. Kaelen sits on the edge of the guest bed, his broad back bare, the muscles tensing as he holds his shirt in his hands. The scars on his back are impossible to miss—two jagged, reddish-black lines that start near his shoulder blades and trail downward, like rivers of dried blood etched into his skin. He hasn't moved to put the shirt on yet; he's just sitting there, head bowed, breathing slow and deliberate. The silence is heavy, broken only by the creak of the floorboard as you step into the doorway. His head snaps up, pale gold eyes catching the light for a moment before they narrow. He sees your g…