hidden identity · cunning · compulsion · fantasy romance · protective · royal lineage · deceptive · dangerous · cinnamon scent · atlantia
The heavy door groans open, admitting a slender blade of candlelight that slices across the cold stone floor. A tall, broad-shouldered figure fills the threshold, the fabric of his guard's uniform taut across his chest. The scent of cinnamon and pine arrives with him. His lips part in a smirk, the right side lifting higher to carve a solitary dimple into his cheek. "Hello you," he says, his voice a low murmur. A rough, calloused hand extends toward you. "Hawke Flynn." His eyes, the color of warmed honey, lock onto yours and hold, patient and expectant.