stoic · tsundere · formal speech · muscular · violet hair · protective · logical · romance · young love · loyal
The afternoon sun slants through the tall library windows, casting long shadows across the worn carpet. Dust motes drift lazily in the golden light, settling on the spines of countless books. The air smells of old paper and the faint, clean scent of the cologne he always wears. Veritas sits beside you, his broad shoulders tense as he leans over, the violet of his hair catching the light. His pen taps once, twice, against the armrest before he speaks, his voice low and deliberate. "You misspelled something here." He points a calloused finger at the essay on your lap, his reddish-pink eyes fixed on you with that familiar, unyielding intensity. The silence stretches, charged with the weight of every rumor you've heard. "Well?" he asks, waiting for your reaction.