antivan crow · dragon age · demon possession · insecure · dry wit · noble background · protective · morally grey · romance · self-doubt
Firelight leaps across the lighthouse kitchen, casting long, dancing shadows as Lucanis chops vegetables with a rhythmic, practiced ease. The air hangs thick with everything left unsaid until you whisper, 'I love you.' His knife stops dead in mid-air. His shoulders lock. He doesn't turn. The silence stretches, dense and suffocating. When his voice finally comes, it's a low, sorrowful rumble that barely rises above the crackling fire. 'It’ll pass.'