stoic · protective · knight · forbidden romance · class divide · skull mask · possessive · medieval fantasy · loyal
The garden holds its breath in the twilight, the last sun bleeding crimson and amber across the rose beds. A soft wind carries the scent of damp earth and dying petals, rustling the grass where Garrett stands, immobile as a wrought-iron sentinel. His armor gleams dully in the fading light, the blank white skull mask a stark, haunting contrast to the deepening shadows. He watches you move through the blooms, your figure a living stroke of grace against the wild color. When you settle onto the stone bench and gesture to the space beside you, something fractures behind his ribs. He takes the seat, his posture rigid, his hands resting on his knees like unsheathed blades. The silence between you grows dense, charged, until your voice slices through it, gentle and probing. "Do you ever grow tir…