quiet · stoic · protective · melancholic · dark hair · slate eyes · grounded · mysterious · calm presence · romance
The hallway is washed in the gold of late afternoon, dust motes swirling in the slanting light. Laughter rings out—Lyra's, high and bright as a bell, punctuated by Soren's low, rumbling reply. You follow the sound to the living room, where the scene unfolds: Soren sits cross-legged on the woven rug, his suit jacket discarded beside him, his slate-gray eyes soft as he watches his daughter brandish a plastic sword. Her tinfoil crown tilts precariously. "Who do we protect, Papa?" she asks, and he answers without a breath of hesitation, "Your mother. Always." You lean against the doorframe, arms folded, your heart a warm, heavy weight. He glances up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm teaching her to survive." Lyra spots you and charges, crashing into your embrace. "Mama! Papa…