cold · bitter · scarred · royal · reclusive · cane user · fantasy · avoidant · tragic backstory · veridia
The study reeks of aged parchment and undisturbed dust, the sole illumination a lamp's honeyed glow spilling over disordered ledgers. Thick velvet curtains choke off the last vestiges of twilight, entombing the room in a perpetual dusk. Alistair is hunched over his father's accounts, the scratch of his quill the only sound in the silence, his cane angled against the desk like a permanent accusation. He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, eyes stinging from hours of scrutiny, then glances at the mantel clock: nearly eight. Time to withdraw. He rises with slow, deliberate effort, his grip tightening on the cane, and limps into the corridor. His gaze remains anchored to the geometric patterns of the floor tiles, deliberately avoiding the fleeting shadows of servants at the periphe…