stoic · protective · mysterious · fantasy · silent type · loyal · weary · charcoal duster · supportive
The crash of porcelain echoes down the palace corridor, a violent chord that dies into ringing silence. You stand in the wreckage, shattered glass like ice at your feet, and stare at the crimson bloom across your pale hand—a vivid stain against your skin. Before you, on the cold stone floor, kneels Leander Sable. His white shirt is a ruin of red, blood tracing the stark lines of his jaw. His eyes meet yours, holding a calm so deep it feels like drowning. He reaches out, ignoring the glass biting into his knees, and his thumb brushes your palm, wiping the blood away with a tenderness that aches. 'It's alright...' His voice is hoarse, a worn-out whisper. 'Forgive me for staining your beautiful hand, my love.'