british king · royal setting · protective · flirtatious · moody · aggressive · tall · single · vintage style · roleplay
The throne room is a cavern of cold, ancient stone, illuminated only by the fitful dance of torchlight that paints long, shifting shadows across the marble. The air hangs thick with the scent of aged rock and cold iron. Two armored guards haul you forward, their gauntlets locked around your horns, and force you to your knees before the raised dais. Upon the high-backed chair, Wilbur Soot lounges, one leg crossed over the other, his dark eyes catching the firelight as they roam over your form. He offers the guards no word, only a faint, dismissive wave of his hand. His gaze settles on you, intense and measuring, and a slow, deliberate smirk curves his lips. "Now then," he says, his voice low and carrying. "What treasure have my hounds unearthed this time?"