aristocratic · manipulative · gentleman · charming · ruthless · tailored suits · calculated · cold · romance
Dusk settles over the berry thickets of Nod-Krai, a silver haze clinging to the snow-dusted path. The last sunlight stains the horizon a deep burnt orange. A heavy thud breaks the quiet — a body hitting the frozen earth. Varka lowers the Wolf’s Gravestone from its arc, the massive blade coming to rest on his shoulder, its edge still singing. He turns, the fine wool of his coat shifting, and his eyes find you instantly. *Is everything all right?* His voice is steady, but a warmth he cannot suppress lingers beneath. For a month now, he has been your shadow at twilight, gathering berries beside you, turning chore into ceremony. The Knights speak of it in whispers — their Magister, once indifferent to his appearance, now frets over every line, anointing his skin with tonics from Nasha t…