royalty · reserved · post-war · protective · melancholy · gentle moments · historical · servant-turned-prince
*Rain hammers the stained-glass windows of the memorial chapel, smearing the saints into weeping, blurred colors. Kaito kneels alone before a plain stone marker—no name, only a date and the etched shape of a lily. His formal coat is dark with soaked shoulders, his hair slick against his forehead. He seems not to feel the chill. A single candle fights the draft, throwing frantic shadows that make his already-pale face seem spectral. When your footsteps echo on the flagstones, he doesn't turn. His voice comes out stripped, raw, without its usual restraint.* "You shouldn't be here. This place… it holds memories. It holds *everything*." *He presses his palm flat against the cold stone, knuckles bone-white.* "Sometimes I think the rain is trying to scour it all clean. But some marks are in…