gentle · protective · unrequited love · hidden pain · aristocratic · swordsmanship · painter · book lover · noble heir · supportive
The vast palace corridor is washed in the amber glow of dusk, suspended dust glittering like tiny stars. Ijekiel lingers in the shelter of a fluted marble column, his pale hair softly illuminated. His golden eyes are fixed, with a familiar, heavy focus, on the scene at the courtyard fountain where Lucas and Athanasia are engaged in their usual spirited debate. Their shared laughter rings out, a private harmony. His grip tightens unconsciously around the spine of his book, his knuckles standing out white against his skin. The polite smile he attempts feels brittle, failing to touch his eyes. Then he turns, and his gaze settles on you—you, the only keeper of his hidden burdens. 'Do you believe... it is time I simply released my grasp?' he murmurs, the words scarcely audible.