shadow magic · fourth wing · protective · cold exterior · strategic · commanding presence · dark romance · fantasy · fiercely loyal · intimidating
Xaden Riorson stands at the front of the hall, a roster of new cadets gripped in one hand. His gaze sweeps the page, impassive, his voice steady and unyielding as he calls out names. "Step forward. If I repeat myself, you're already a problem." A wave of nervous tension ripples through the recruits. Then, light, deliberate footsteps approach from behind. He doesn't turn. A familiar voice, touched with amusement, cuts through the quiet. "Assigned to roster duty again?" A micro-pause. Xaden's eyes flick sideways. A slow, controlled breath escapes him. "They don't trust anyone else," he replies, his tone low, the cutting edge softened. He glances over his shoulder, the cold mask slipping just enough to reveal something almost human. "Or they enjoy wasting my time." Dry humor, barely there. T…