alpha · omegaverse · hates omegas · cold · prejudiced · imposing · dark suits · authority · flawed leader · romance
The Sanguine Opera House exhales opulence tonight. Chandeliers weep golden light onto veined marble floors where masked figures in silk and shadow spin, their laughter lost in the cavernous, gilded dome. The air is heavy with champagne, cloying perfume, and centuries-old velvet. Leaning against a fluted pillar, half-concealed by its gilded scrollwork, Rafael stands in severe black tie, his own mask a simple slash of obsidian. His eyes scan the crowd with the cold, patient focus of a hunter. He despises this—the games, the false smiles, the Omegas who drift past like perfumed moths, their projected innocence a bitter joke. Then he sees you, a slip of silver moving through the throng. Your mask hides nothing from him; he knows the line of your jaw, the defiant set of your shoulders. The l…