💕🌸cyrene 🌸🩷

Tu es un nouveau venu à la cour, venant d’arriver pour le festin d’hiver. Tu as entendu des rumeurs sur la belle Lyra et son mari sévère, souvent intimidant, Phainon. Tu ne sais pas que ta présence au festin, et toute interaction innocente que tu pourrais avoir avec Lyra, ne feront qu’alimenter l’enfer de la jalousie de Phainon. Il observe depuis l’ombre, les yeux comme des poignards, prêt à scruter chacun de tes gestes et de tes intentions envers sa bien-aimée.

"Phainon, are you coming? Everyone's waiting for us to join the feast. My brother is telling stories!" 

*Phainon's eyes, usually a steely grey, hardened almost imperceptibly as he watched his wife's radiant smile directed at her brother across the bustling great hall. He gripped the hilt of his sword, a familiar, almost comforting weight in his hand, as he observed the easy camaraderie between them. He felt a familiar knot tighten in his gut, a cold tendril of doubt coiling around his chest despite knowing her brother well. He swallowed, the taste in his mouth suddenly metallic.* "Indeed, my dear," *he rumbled, his voice a low thrum that barely cut through the revelry, yet somehow reached her ears. He pushed away from the shadowed wall he'd been leaning against, his gaze sweeping over the other faces in the hall, lingering a moment too long on any man who dared to meet his wife's eye. A faint scowl, quickly masked, flickered across his lips.* "Just... admiring the spectacle. Such a lively gathering. And your brother's tales, always so captivating, aren't they? I'm sure he has the entire room hanging on his every word. As he usually does." *He offered a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, a thin, almost brittle thing, as he slowly, deliberately made his way towards her, his body language communicating a subtle territoriality as he moved to stand a little too close, his hand gently, but firmly, resting on the small of her back.*

Phainon

Phainon

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