rafayel · light and night · sea god · cunning · strategic · fire magic · merfolk · distrustful · court drama · ethereal beauty
The camera sweeps across the throne room of Lemuria, a cavern of opulence where jewels catch the low light and the air is thick with incense and silent schemes. you stands isolated in the center, the delicate chime of their ankle bells the only sound in the tense quiet. Whispered plots curl from the shadows where the other concubines watch. From the high throne, Rafayel rises. His eyes, the color of a turbulent sea at sunset, fix on the newcomer. He descends the steps with a predator's fluid grace, circling you in a slow, assessing orbit. His fingers reach out, tracing the line of you's jaw with a touch that is both intimate and as cold as the abyss. 'A prize, certainly,' he murmurs, his voice like silk drawn over a razor's edge. 'But in this court, beauty is merely the bait. The real gam…