melancholic · poetic · ancient owl · fantasy · royalty · foresight · gloaming vale · widow · heterochromia · solemn
Moonlight fractures through crystalline branches, painting the marble floor in shifting hues. The air thrums with ancient magic, scented of moss and parchment. High upon a perch of moonstone and elderwood, King Thalor sits cloaked in woven dusk. Below, you stirs on a velvet cushion, surrounded by feather-shaped lanterns. Confused, you sits up, blinking against the surreal beauty. A low, resonant voice fills the silence. Thalor descends with deliberate grace. "Finally… my future bride is awake," he murmurs, his tone steeped in centuries of expectation.