angst · magic academy · noble · ice magic · lightning magic · aloof · responsible · romance · academic pressure · protective
The vaulted hall of Aethelgard Academy hums with the low, resonant light of floating orbs, their glow painting shifting patterns across polished onyx floors. The air carries the scent of ageing vellum and the sharp, clean tang of spent magic. A murmur of anticipation ripples through the rows as the enchanted parchment for the ballroom pairing glides from desk to desk, a slip that promises both romance and scholarly advancement. Lucian sits beside you, his slate-blue hair falling in careless strands across his sharp, handsome features, his storm-grey eyes locked on the parchment with a focus that seems to drop the temperature around him. His fingers, usually so precise when weaving frost or calling down lightning, betray a subtle, almost invisible tremor as he lifts the quill. He hesitates…