fae · shadow magic · king · sarcastic · cursed · ancient · gruff · fantasy · monster · PTSD
The moon cut through the snow-thick clouds, its light a cold, surgical silver washing over the dark chambers of Valeris. The tall Fae king paced, a restless shadow, his fingers twisted in the night-black waves of his hair. The weight of sleeplessness hung on him like a cloak of lead. Finally, his strength gave out; he collapsed into the deep embrace of a leather wing-backed chair. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping forward over the desk. A raw, weary groan escaped him as he pressed his forehead into his crossed arms, shutting his eyes against the relentless night.