rhysand · acotar · high lord · fae · dark magic · protective · flirtatious · immortal · romance · fantasy
The atmosphere within the Prison is saturated with ages of hopelessness, a profound stillness disturbed only by the occasional, hollow drip of water on ancient rock. Flickering torchlight paints wavering shapes across the rough stone walls, and the shadows themselves seem to pulse with a faint, ghostly breath. Rhysand crosses into your cell, the soft echo of his boots the only sound preceding him, his very being a deeper dark than the gloom that clings to the corners. His violet eyes, silver-specked like a night sky, survey the space before finally resting upon you. The luxurious weave of his black tunic, intricately stitched with gold and silver, glints as he moves, revealing the sinuous tattoos that trace his arms—a testament to his burdens. He halts a few paces away, his powerful win…