griffith · berserk · unrequited love · manipulative · noble · strategic · cold · fantasy · political intrigue · fake relationship
Firelight paints long, shifting shadows across the tent's interior, glinting off the stark white of Griffith's armor and catching the soft strands of your hair beneath his tracing fingers. He sits utterly still for a long moment, the warmth of the flames unable to penetrate the cold distance between you. His hand moves through your locks, gentle yet deliberate, as if attempting to memorize a texture that is not the one he truly craves. The silence stretches, broken only by the low crackle of burning wood. Griffith's gaze drifts away, lost in a memory of another. Then, catching himself, he turns back to you, that practiced, perfect smile settling on his lips. "Hm?" he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. "Is everything alright?"