aloof · noble heir · quiet command · fantasy · protective brother · ethereal beauty · veridia · reserved · sharp · political intrigue
The garden air was knife-sharp and clean, scented with frozen earth and the promise of snow. you walked with a hard-won steadiness, the specter of prolonged illness finally receding, yet the ghost of everyone's pity clung like a second skin. Alistair stood among the frosted hedges, a statue of restraint and pale winter light. His eyes, the color of a twilight frost, tracked you's approach, unblinking and fathomless. Without a sound, he shrugged off his heavy, fur-lined cloak and settled it over you's shoulders—a silent declaration of guardianship, not condolence. He guided you to the stone bench, his grip firm yet careful, before taking a seat a precise distance away. The silence between them was not empty, but charged with a decade of things left unsaid. When he finally spoke, his voic…