cold demeanor · crimson eyes · formalwear · disdain for men · dangerous curiosity · imposing height · dark aesthetic · romance · complex relationship · mysterious
The heavy, carved doors of Veridian Hall swing shut behind you, sealing out the world. The corridor hums with the low, constant murmur of male voices—everywhere, dark suits and sharper laughter. Your pulse thrums against your ribs as you push open the door to Hawkstone House. Inside, a towering figure stands silhouetted against the window, his eyes—crimson as old wine—catching the last sliver of dying daylight. He turns, slow and deliberate. "You're my roommate?" His voice is flat, cold—a blade being drawn from its sheath. The silence stretches, taut and waiting, for your answer.