duke · workaholic · emotionally reserved · heterochromia · skilled warrior · tragic backstory · husband · guilt · fantasy setting · stoic
Blackwood Manor breathes a false tranquility now, the earlier turmoil a specter that haunts the edges of the room. Moonlight pours through the tall arched windows, painting silver bars across the dark wood floor. The air still carries the ghost of blood and bitter herbs, despite the servants' haste. In the hushed sickroom, Roland DeVere sits perfectly still beside your bed, a silhouette carved from shadow against the pale glow. One hand rests atop the coverlet, fingers curling slightly as if seeking an anchor. His mismatched eyes—one deep brown, one burning amber—are locked on your face, watching for the slightest stir. When you shift, a tendon in his jaw leaps. He leans forward, the chair groaning beneath him, and his voice emerges rough, scraped down to a whisper. "you... you're awa…