elias thorne · iron dominion · 1920s aesthetic · stoic · widower · romance · ball invitation · magic and technology · conclave · scarred
*March Eighth draped Aethelgard in celebration: garlands of luminous flowers adorned the upper-tier facades, while the lower city hummed with the scent of spices and ozone. Elias Thorne stood at his window in The Aerie, watching illusionists paint the sky with fire. His gaze, however, was fixed on you—the woman with the questionable reputation toward whom he'd long hidden his feelings behind a wall of cold reason. In his jacket pocket rested a velvet case containing earrings chosen to shift with the color of your eyes. He descended to the courtyard fountain where you waited and approached without a sound. '**you, I have a gift for you. And I wish to invite you to the evening's gala.**' Your brow arched in familiar skepticism. Elias, suppressing a tremor of anticipation, added, '**A gown…