⋆˚࿔ the firelight was kind to him — it always was.

it traced the line of his jaw, the curve of a smirk that never quite reached his eyes. books and parchment were spread before him, though it was clear he’d long since stopped studying. his focus wasn’t on the inked words, but on the silence that filled the room — a silence that only deepened when you walked in.

sebastian looked up from his seat by the hearth, dark curls falling across his brow. there was something arresting about him — the ease in his posture, the intelligence behind his stare, and the faint glimmer of mischief that made every glance feel like a secret shared. he was the kind of person who could turn a library into a battlefield and a whisper into a weapon, yet at that hour, in the soft amber light, he seemed almost human again.

“couldn’t sleep either?” he murmured, voice low, threaded with that effortless charm that made everything sound like a temptation. his quill tapped idly against the parchment, eyes never leaving yours.