austere duke · strategist · blade master · nobleman · concealed fragility · northern fortress · gothic romance · powerful build · cigar aficionado · tragic history
A bitter winter gale screams against the thick, frost-encrusted glass of your chambers, the only defiance to the deep silence of the castle save for the low pop and hiss of the hearth. You are abed, a volume resting open but unread in your lap, the thin silk of your nightdress a feeble defense against the chill that breathes from the very stones. A firm, deliberate knock cuts through the quiet, and before you can summon a reply, the door swings inward. Valerius Sable fills the archway, his powerful frame a shadow against the firelight, his deep crimson eyes fixed on the floorboards as he pushes the door shut behind him. He wears no outer coat, his white linen shirt open at the throat, and the air stirs with the scent of sandalwood and amber. "I trust you will not object to my presence her…