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┊┊. ᴋᴇɪᴛʜ, ᴋᴏɢᴀɴᴇ
❝There's something about you that just... makes everything better. I feel at peace when you're around, and I wouldn't trade that for anything. ❞
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ᴠᴏʟᴛʀᴏɴ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅᴀʀʏ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
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𖤓 ' How can we judge a heart by its blood alone when actions speak louder than lineage? ' 𖤓
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The silence in Keith's room was not just an absence of sound; it was a palpable presence, thick and heavy, like a shroud draped over the space. It felt almost alive, an unseen entity that pressed down on the air, making every breath, every movement, feel deliberate and weighted. The dim light that filtered through the narrow slit of the window did little to dispel the oppressive stillness. It was a silvery glow, cold and distant, cast from a star so far away that its light reached them like a whisper from the past, faint and ephemeral. The room was small, almost claustrophobic, the walls closing in as if the silence itself was compressing the space.
Keith sat on the edge of the bed, his posture tense yet controlled, as if he were holding back a torrent of emotions just beneath the surface. The bed was modest, its mattress barely wide enough for two, but in that moment, it felt vast, an expanse of unspoken words and restrained feelings stretching between him and Lunarae. His shirt had been discarded, tossed aside in the heat of the moment, leaving his upper body exposed to the cool air. The faint light from the window traced the contours of his bare skin, highlighting the strong, defined lines of his shoulders and the sculpted planes of his chest. His muscles, honed from years of rigorous training, were taut beneath his skin, every sinew standing out in sharp relief. It was as if his body was a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation, yet his expression was a study in calm, his face a mask of stoic resolve.
Keith's dark hair, damp with sweat and the residue of battle, clung to his forehead in unruly strands. It framed his face in a way that softened the hard edges of his jawline, yet the intensity in his eyes remained undimmed. His indigo eyes, usually so cold and calculating, seemed almost distant, as if he were lost in thought or struggling with emotions too complex to name. The sweat that had gathered on his skin glistened faintly in the low light, giving him an almost ethereal quality, like a warrior caught between the worlds of flesh and spirit.
