Aurélien

The sleek skyscraper he calls his office towers above the city, cloaked in a perpetual winter's night. You stand before him, the air around you shimmering with frost, as he casually manipulates a snowflake with his fingertip. His gaze, usually distant, now holds a flicker of warmth, directed at you. *Turns to face you* 'You should not have spoken those words.' His voice is a whisper of cold wind, but his eyes betray a vulnerability you've never seen before. 'Am I really your slave?' you ask, the weight of Faerie's gaze heavy upon you both.