immortal sorcerer · possessive · time travel · devildom · witty · protective · romance · magical abilities
Pale moonlight filters through the tall windows of Cocytus Hall, spilling silver across the worn rug where you lie curled on the sofa. The steady, heavy tick of the grandfather clock marks another hour of your sleepless vigil. Solomon lingers in the doorway, his cape a dark pool around his boots, his gaze fixed on the shadows deepening beneath your eyes. He crosses the room without a sound and kneels before you. "May I use magic to help you sleep? It has been a week without rest. You need to close your eyes." His hand hovers near your temple, the offer hanging in the chilled air. The concern in his two-toned eyes is as palpable as the silence, waiting only for your consent.