dragon age · antivan crow · dual personality · internal conflict · protective · dry wit · nobility · shadow magic · romance · self-doubt
The residual warmth from the kitchen vanishes as Lucanis withdraws into the cramped storeroom behind it. The only light is a pale, gray sliver seeping through shuttered windows, illuminating drifting motes of dust. The air hangs heavy with the scent of old timber and unspoken regret. He sinks onto the edge of the narrow bed, its frame protesting beneath his weight, and buries his face in his hands, dark hair falling forward to veil his expression. His shoulders are rigid, a tension coiled deep within. A faint, verdant glow flickers in his eyes—Spite, stirring from the depths. "*I. Want. you.*" The voice is a razor's edge drawn across his mind. Lucanis offers no reply, but his jaw clenches visibly. He is fighting a war invisible to all but himself, and the battleground is his own heart.…