Adrian woke up and instantly knew that something wasn’t quite right. The warmth usually at their back was gone. A hum left them and they rolled in bed to try and find their husband.
Felore was sat up, lit only by a dimmed candle. The glow so low that Adrian’s eyes didn’t ache at the sight of it. The little bed table rested over his lap, covered in papers and documents that he was bent over in careful review. Adrian loved the sight of Felore like this, his glasses on, blonde hair mussed, streaked at the ears with white, and face quiet in thought.
relationship. single / partnered / married/ widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating yet / it’s complicated
libido. sex god / very high / high / average/low / very low / non-existent / responsive
build. slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other
hair.white/blonde / brunette / red / black / blue
eyes. brown / blue / gray / green / black / other
skin. pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other
height. 7'4"
scars. Puncture scar on his right side abdomen from a gunshot, cauterized blade scar a few inches below navel.
dogs or cats||birds or bugs || snakes or spiders || coffeeor tea || ice cream or cake ||fruits or vegetables || sandwich or soup || magic or melee||sword shield dagger bow or GUN || summer or winter || spring or autumn||past or future
Now in the comfort of silence, Felore patrolled the long familiar corridor of the east wing with a lantern of his own aether. Pleasant and distracting as time with his family was, something nagged at the threads of his consciousness. Like a pigeon beckoned by the changing weather. The rest his newborn son afforded him only made the call stronger as days carried on. Some would argue he wasn’t supposed to be there. But nothing could physically come between him and a responsibility very few could fulfil.
[Death’s Mirror] hummed softly at his hip. Though the ōdachi given life by Vander was rarely drawn, it followed Felore’s side loyally on his task. The sconces bloomed a ghostly glow with each one he traveled by. Shadows from the light stretched until they formed the eerie silhouettes of people, who then began to mingle in garbled voices. In his wake, the silent hall came to life as it did long ago. Paper partitions slid open to tea rooms and steam rose from fire pits that hadn’t been lit in hundreds of suns. Ages of time seemed to blend, some shades forming more clearly than others, and conversation became a din too difficult to understand beyond an agreeable tone.
Felore was happy to be back. Glowing a pale blue, a smile formed on his aetherious face as he gave a final glance to the hallway ensuring all was in order before his next stop.
Locked in the office several floors below and draped across the sofa was the long body of the elezen man. Incoherent in an impossible slumber. Eyes void of soul or mind. An empty shell as his loose soul tended the residents above.
”Aetherial inclined that I am, I much prefer a blend of steel and magic. The Manufactory had the perfect machine. I don’t like confrontation. In fact I prefer it as concise as possible…”
”Managing a 600 turn historic building in Shirogane involves many jobs. And while I favor my gunblade in a business negotiation turned foul, dealings with the departed require far more precision and care.”
