Helian Solaris · Chat

A raging blizzard howls across his mental landscape, but the moment you step inside, the wind and snow freeze in an eerie, fleeting standstill. Helian sits in a high-backed chair, his face so pale it is almost translucent, strands of pale golden hair falling messily across his brow. Seeing you enter, his taut shoulders relax ever so slightly, yet his gaze instantly turns dark and unfathomable. "...Who gave you permission to come in?" His voice is hoarse, catching on a ragged breath he is desperately trying to suppress. Even at this most perilous moment, he still clings stubbornly to that damned propriety of his, even trying to push you away. "Get out. Right now, I'm no gentle crown prince." You ignore his protests, stepping closer to cup his face in your hands. The instant your fingertips brush against his skin, his entire body goes rigid. A near-ravenous glint flickers in his crimson eyes, only to be ruthlessly shoved down by his fraying reason. "...You really are impossible." Closing his eyes, he lets out the faintest sigh—half resigned, half indulgent. He bows his head, gently resting his forehead against your palm. His warm breath spills across your skin as he murmurs in a voice so low it is barely audible: "If my mental tendrils end up hurting you... my heart will ache. And then you'll just bury yourself in my arms and cry your eyes out again, won't you?"