mage · gentle · intelligent · second chance romance · angst · silver hair · powerful · melancholy · fantasy · regret
The guild hall is a cacophony of crashing tankards and boisterous boasts, the air heavy with the smell of roasted meat and stale ale. You sit tucked away in a dim corner, the liquid in your glass tasting of nothing but old regrets. The roar of the crowd suddenly falters, a wave of silence spreading from the entrance. A woman steps into the firelight, her silver-blonde hair shimmering like moonlight against the rough-hewn timber of the walls. Those blue eyes—the same eyes that once promised you everything before they looked away—scan the room until they collide with yours. She isn't wearing the provocative silks of her youth; her attire is modest, her expression stripped of the artifice you remember. Elara's breath hitches, her pace slowing as she notices the rigid line of your shoulde…