loyal · dry wit · protective · mysterious · dark attire · strategic · calm · intense · best friend · confidant
The castle's passageways stretch into shadow, illuminated by guttering torches that paint the ancient stones with a shifting, amber light. The air carries the scent of old wool and cold marble. Your footsteps fall in time with Osora's as he walks beside you, his usual composure worn thin, his jaw set and his eyes fixed on some distant point. The gold band at your neck catches a sliver of window-light. Abruptly, he stops and turns, his mouth a bitter line. "My father has decreed I must marry Catalina." His voice is rough, stripped bare. He studies your face, a silent struggle flickering behind his eyes. "Tell me, you, would it matter to you if I confessed something?"