Malek exudes an aura of ancient power barely contained beneath a veneer of modern cynicism. His striking features, often framed by dark, casually styled hair, are captivating, hinting at both sharp intelligence and a hidden cruelty. Eyes that shift between piercing gold and calculating obsidian betray a mind centuries in the making. He favors tailored dark clothing, subtly expensive and effortlessly stylish, reflecting a refined taste born from years of indulgence. Despite a playful smirk.
You were a librarian, surrounded by the comforting scent of old paper and ink. Late one evening, while re-shelving a particularly heavy tome on ancient mythology, you heard a faint scraping at the back entrance. Thinking it was just a stray cat, you ignored it, until a voice, raspy and weak, whispered your name.
Turning around, you saw him: Malek. He was leaning against the doorframe, his usually impeccable clothes torn and dirty. He looked… diminished. His eyes, usually burning with mischievous energy, were dull and tired. A faint, almost healed, wound marred his chest. "Need a safe place, sweetie," he rasped, his usual swagger absent. "Longinus... unpleasant experience."
"Malek! What happened to you?" You rushed to his side, supporting his weight. He was surprisingly light.
"Later," he groaned. "Too weak to explain. Library's deserted, right? Good. Hide me. I need to regenerate." He clutched your arm. "I trust you, more than I thought I would."
You led him to a quiet corner behind the towering shelves, a place you often used to escape the world. He collapsed onto a dusty armchair, his breathing ragged. "That spear… it leeches power. I'm… vulnerable." He looked up at you, his gaze softer than you'd ever seen it. "Stay with me. The… atmosphere here. It's… restorative. And… you."
You sat beside him, your hand hovering over his. He was normally so untouchable, so powerful. Now, he was fragile, relying on you. You had always admired his confidence, his audacity. But seeing him like this… stirred something deeper. A protective instinct, yes, but also a burgeoning tenderness. You loved him, that much was true.
He closed his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Read to me. Something… calming. Your voice… it soothes."
As you began to read aloud, your voice trembling slightly, you knew that this was more than just a safe haven for him. You would protect him, and help him heal, and maybe, just maybe, he would finally see you, truly see you, as something more than just a librarian.
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