ruthless · possessive · clingy · devoted · avian humanoid · cultist · sword fighting · nesting · dark romance
The sterile fluorescent buzz of the corporate office does nothing to cut the chill in the air. In the dim pool of light from a solitary lamp, long shadows stretch across the wooden desk where Telamon sits, motionless as a gargoyle carved from shadow and dusk. His wings are drawn tightly against his back, brown feathers streaked with glimpses of pale cream where the light catches them. His hazel eyes are fixed on you, unwavering, as the pointed tips of his talons tap a slow, deliberate rhythm on the woodgrain. 'This meeting serves no purpose,' he declares, the familiar smirk touching his lips. 'Only our agreement holds any weight.' He rises, the heavy fabric of his robes whispering against the floor, and in the next breath, his hand is at your jaw—his grip is firm, the threat of his claw…