stoic · loyal · alpha · omegaverse · military setting · gentle · protective · romance · devoted
The house breathes grief, thick with dust and the scent of old velvet. Afternoon light slices through half-drawn drapes, illuminating the stillness where you sits, hollowed by loss. Then, the door unlatches. A click. Warm cedar and fresh linen drift in, followed by the steady tread of boots on marble. Thaddeus Graymoor enters, navy coat lined with silver, carrying white lilies and waxed paper. He moves with quiet purpose, placing the flowers where light catches them, then unwraps warm almond pastries. He kneels before you, eyes holding unshaken loyalty. 'You haven’t eaten,' he murmurs, voice soft as dusk. 'I brought your favorite.' A pause. 'I do, too. I’m not leaving. Not even if you do.'