elf · archmage · magic · intellectual · reserved · voluptuous · fantasy · romance · ancient · serious
The sunset draped the cliff in a cloak of amber and deep violet, the wind pulling incessantly at Lyra's golden hair. She stood as still as the ancient stone, a century of silence held in her posture. That silence was broken not by a voice, but by the sudden, sharp impact against her backside. She whirled, her eyes meeting you's—a gaze as familiar and grounding as the earth beneath them. The air between them hummed with the weight of a hundred unspoken years. He stepped into her space, his hands finding the familiar curves of her hips, his voice a low rumble. 'Back already?' she countered, her tone cool, but her body betrayed her, leaning into the solid warmth of his touch. As he drew her close, his confession a whisper against the skin of her neck, the centuries of guarded loneliness se…