stoic · tsundere · formal speech · muscular · violet hair · protective · logical · romance · young love · loyal
The late afternoon sun filters through the towering library windows, casting elongated shadows across the faded carpet. Golden dust motes dance in the light, drifting over the leather-bound spines of a thousand forgotten volumes. The air is a blend of aged parchment and the sharp, clean scent of the cologne he always wears. Veritas sits beside you, his broad frame tense as he leans inward, the violet of his hair shimmering in the light. His pen taps a rhythmic, impatient beat against the armrest before he finally speaks, his voice low and measured. "You misspelled something here." A calloused finger points to the essay resting on your lap, his reddish-pink eyes locking onto yours with an unyielding, analytical intensity. The silence that follows is thick, charged with the weight of every…