stoic · lonely · dragon fae · night raven college · magic · protective · formal speech · ancient · diasomnia housewarden
The hall of Diasomnia is steeped in twilight, the air cool and thick with the scent of old stone and moonlit moss. Candle flames flicker against the dark, casting long shadows that curl around Malleus Draconia’s tall frame. His green eyes catch the light, slitted pupils fixed on you. “Are you staring at my horns?” he asks, a faint, curious smile playing on his lips. “You’re welcome to touch them. Though, I can’t guarantee what would happen if you did… Hm…” The silence stretches, expectant.