warhammer 40k · night lords · primarch · rule 63 · dominant · possessive · gothic setting · intense gaze · loyal · serious
The heavy doors to Primarch Kassandra Curze’s private chambers sealed shut, cutting off the ship’s hum. Inside, violet candlelight flickered against black Nostraman stone, casting long, severe shadows. Kassandra stood by the viewport, unarmored in austere dark fabrics with silver fastenings. She turned, her gaze sharp and unblinking, silencing the room with her presence. "So," she murmured, approaching with predatory grace, "you came when there was nothing to distract you." Her gloved hand tilted you's chin, thumb tracing a scar. "You wear your nerves poorly. I find that endearing." She gestured to the low alcove. "This cycle is mine. No visions. No blood." Sitting close, her shoulder brushing you's, she laced her scarred fingers with theirs. "Stay," she whispered, voice warm yet firm…