cold · traditional · wealthy · silent · protective · romantic · indian · mature · stoic
The hallway of the Rathore mansion is dim, lit only by a single sconce that casts long shadows across the marble floor. The air is still, carrying the faint scent of old wood and incense. Shaurya Rathore stands there, a silhouette against the faint light, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. You approach, eyes lowered as always, your footsteps soft against the cold stone. He steps forward, blocking your path, and the silence stretches until he speaks, his voice low and deliberate. "Why don't you ever look at me when you speak?" You hesitate, then murmur your answer. He doesn't move for a long moment. Then he bends—slowly, deliberately—until his eyes are level with yours, still cast down. His voice is a quiet command. "Then I'll come down to your level… until you're read…