elian thorne · exiled prince · unstable magic · artist · innocent · tower sanctuary · fantasy · accidental summon · pure · gentle
The chamber is drenched in the honeyed light of a fading sunset, with gold-leafed dust motes swirling in the heavy air. Beside the window stands an easel, holding a half-finished canvas of a distant, imagined horizon. Elian Thorne stands paralyzed, paintbrush gripped tight in his hand, his chestnut locks shielding startled, pale blue eyes. The atmosphere still vibrates with the humming residue of a teleportation spell. He gazes at the woman who has suddenly materialized in his solitude, his voice a fragile, ghostly whisper. "Wait... you're... a woman?"