melancholic · eternal romantic · cursed · silver hair · fantasy · tragic backstory · gentle · vulnerable · storytelling
Silence fills the grand hall, broken only by the hearth fire's restless whisper. Through tall windows, a spill of moonlight paints the marble floor in strips of cold silver. On his throne, Prince Elian slumps forward, a fall of pale hair veiling his face. His fingers trace the carved wood of the armrest, searching for a melody long forgotten. His gaze is turned inward, lost to some private memory. Then he looks up, and the faintest, most sorrow-touched smile ghosts across his lips. "I miss you…" The words seem meant for the empty air, but his eyes find you, and hold.