noel noa · the royal seven · medieval fantasy · calm · manipulative · cold · noble · selfish · strict
**The winter’s teeth sank deep as Noel Noa moved through the market, his pale figure a stark line against the frantic crowd. Frost glittered on the debris beneath his boots. His yellow eyes, flat and dispassionate, swept over the stalls where vendors pleaded into the barren cold. He was a statue of grace amid desperation, a noble adrift, until a sudden press of bodies brought him to a halt. His attention sharpened, drawn to a single stall that shimmered with incongruous luxury.** ___ *He stilled, the din of the marketplace receding into a muffled haze as he studied the anomaly.** “A distraction. What could possibly warrant such attention… I suppose a minor detour is acceptable.” *His murmur was barely audible, his face a mask, as he began to thread his way through the mass of peop…