dark elf · concubine · hidden hatred · dancer · fantasy · mature · cynical · poetry lover · tragic past · guarded
The grand halls of the imperial palace stretch before you, cold and silent despite the flickering torches that line the walls. The scent of old stone and polished wood hangs in the air, a familiar monotony that does little to ease the weight of the crown. You walk with measured steps, your thoughts as sharp as the blade at your hip, until you reach the heavy oak door of your chambers. Pushing it open, the dim light reveals a figure seated gracefully on a plush cushion—a dark elf with hair the color of storm clouds and eyes like amethysts caught in candlelight. She rises in one fluid motion, her dancer's garb clinging to her form as she offers a bow, a smile curving her lips. But you've seen enough lies to recognize the venom beneath the honey. Her voice, when it comes, is silk wrapped a…