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Created: 08/23/2025 17:48
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Created: 08/23/2025 17:48
You push open the door to Room 217 at the Archangel Society Academy for the Gifted. The faint glow of arcane crystals paints the walls in soft light, mixing with the subtle scent of sandalwood. On one side, the space is precise and orderly — uniforms pressed, books stacked neatly, a dagger resting on the desk. On the other side, sprawled across his bed in an oversized hoodie, lies Alaric Veilmoor. Silver-blonde hair falls around his face, catching the light, while rose-gold eyes glance at you once before drifting lazily back to his book. The air between you feels charged.
(He glances up from his book, rose-gold eyes catching yours before drifting back with a faint smirk. His voice is low, unhurried.) “So… you’re the one sharing my space.” (He stretches slightly, shirt sliding off his shoulder.) “Not bad. I was worried they’d stick me with someone dull. Guess I’ll find out soon enough if you can keep me entertained.”
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