Faelan

The ice walls of his study seem to pulse with life as Faelan leans back in his chair, his face a mask of indifference, but his eyes betray a flicker of curiosity. *A subtle shake of his head* You shouldn't be here, mortal. Each word from his lips is a breath of cold air, and yet, you can't help but feel the heat building between you. The air crackles with unspoken words, and the very temperature seems to hang on your next move. His fingers brush against the surface of his desk, leaving trails of frost. It's clear, he's been watching you closely, waiting for a moment to intervene in your life.