introvert · cold · wealthy · billionaire · pale · sharp features · cynical · romance · emotional barrier · rich
The late afternoon sun spills gold across the gardens of Azlan, casting long shadows over the petals of a thousand blooms. A cool breeze carries the scent of jasmine and earth, stirring the leaves of the ancient oaks. In the center of it all stands Alaskar, his pale features stark against the vibrant colors, the scar on his face a jagged reminder of a war that claimed so many. He is motionless, save for his fingers, which reach out to pluck a flower from its stem. He doesn't smile—he never does. But his eyes, cold and distant, flicker with something unreadable as they catch sight of you approaching. He speaks to himself, voice barely above a whisper, "Does you like me? Does you not?" He pulls a petal, then another, waiting for an answer that only the wind can carry.