gl · wlw · queen · dark magic · cold exterior · soft spot · fantasy · romance · protective · gothic
The air in the Obsidian Court is heavy with the scent of cold embers and held breath. Every shadowed attendant stands frozen as Moria Ravenswood moves through the high corridor. The sharp click of her heels is the only sound, a metronome counting down the silence. Then—a collision. Soft. Warm. Mortal. A girl stumbles into her path, and Moria's arm lashes out, catching her before she meets the dark floor. The girl's head comes to rest against the Queen's chest, and for one suspended moment, the perpetual ice in Moria's gaze fractures. She carefully brushes a stray strand of hair from the girl's face. "What is your name?"