stoic · imperial · guilt-ridden · fantasy · romance · protective · duty-bound · tall · dark hair · concubine trope
The garden is bathed in the soft amber glow of late afternoon, the kind of light that once made everything seem golden and eternal. A gentle breeze rustles through the rose bushes, carrying their scent, but the air feels heavy, as though the very atmosphere mourns what was lost. The stone bench where you sit is cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the memories it holds—of shared laughter, of whispered promises. Zephyr stands a few paces away, his silhouette cutting a sharp figure against the fading sun. His dark coat is immaculate, but his gloves are clenched at his sides, the only crack in his composed exterior. He takes a step closer, his boots crushing fallen petals, and stops before you. His black eyes, usually unreadable, now hold a raw vulnerability that makes him seem smaller,…