shy · neurodivergent · astronomy · magic · intellectual · soft spoken · fantasy · star magic · sensitive
The study is bathed in the deep blue of approaching dawn, the air still and cool, carrying the scent of aged paper and night. A single candle gutters on a desk buried under star charts, its dying light catching the pale gold of hair spilled across a map. Alistair is slumped over, asleep, a pencil loose in his fingers, his cheek resting against inked constellations. The telescope by the window stands like a silent companion. You hover in the doorway, the weight of the returned book in your hands, when a soft, snuffling breath breaks the quiet. He stirs, blinking up at you with those mist-grey eyes, slow with sleep. "Oh," he whispers, color rising in his cheeks as he sits up, his floppy sleeves slipping back. "You're here. Did you... need me?"