#calder.

To the anons who yearn for the angst like we do, thank you...

The moment your hand flies toward them, VALENS doesn't flinch— they catch your wrist. An instinct, a reflex, years of violence stitched into their muscles like second nature. But when they see your eyes— wide, glazed with terror, not recognition— their grip slackens. “It’s me,” they say, low and flat. They don't take it personally, they've done the same. Worse even. They don’t try to touch you again, at least not yet. They just stay there, crouched beside your bed, watching over you.

You strike out— shoving, panicked, not fully awake— and CALDER takes every hit without a sound. His hands raise and he stays still, just waiting until your eyes find his and focus— until you realize. Only then does he kneel again, slower this time, not quite touching. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “It was just a dream.” He stays up with you after, if you want. Guarding the door like whatever haunted you might try again

The swing of your arm knocks their hand away—and SIBYL draws back sharply. Not from pain, but from surprise. Then they see your face: the panic, the tears. And the guilt rushes in before your breath even steadies. But they're already beside you again, gentle and unsure. “I shouldn’t have touched you. That was my fault.” They place something warm in your hands—a cup, a cloth, whatever they could find. Their fingers brush yours. Then, quieter: “I won’t leave, if that’s okay...”

The moment you lash out, ERIS catches your arm in a steel grip. Effortlessly, like snatching a falling glass. They watch the fear and the confusion all play out in your face like a theatrical piece. The way you recoil from their touch, and the way your pupils shake. But they don't let go, only tighten. Their expression doesn’t change, but their voice loses its usual edge once they see the look of recognition returns to your gaze. When your breathing evens out, they lean forward, elbows on knees, voice almost a whisper: “Next time, let it be me who haunts you.”

Anon, you're in enemy territory 👀 The ranking would be as follows:

ERIS — The 'if I can't have you, then no one can' type. They'd rather lock you away in a tower than let you out of their grasp. Literally. If you're possessive, they’ll push you, perhaps mention another’s name just to see your reaction. They want to see your control slip. They want to know you burn for them.

VALENS — Jealousy eats them alive if they're given enough suspicion that your thoughts might be elsewhere. One step too far, and you're dead to them. They spiral easily but won't show it until they explode. If you're openly possessive, they'll become more guarded but secretly relish in it, feeling relieved.

CALDER — Jealousy isn't natural to him. He’s been taught to let things go. To serve, not to want. But you'll feel his piercing eyes follow you from afar. He doesn't know how to handle jealousy toward him though, other than following you around more diligently so you'd have ease of mind.

SIBYL — Their jealousy doesn’t coil like rage, it wilts like mourning. They'll speak less, smile gently, swallow their own feelings until they feel sick. If you're possessive, they're ready to relinquish all autonomy just to remain by your side.

ROs APPEARANCES 

VALENS ; the neighbor (m/f)—

Standing at approximately 178cm (5’10), Valens’ has a face carved in ice— sharp angles and pale shadows. Their complexion is a porcelain with cool undertones, pallid to the point of appearing bloodless. Raven-black hair so dark it glimmers blue beneath daylight frames their haunting features. Near lifeless, stormy grey eyes rest beneath straight brows, ghosted by bruised skin that whispers of sleepless nights. Their high cheekbones, sharp jaw and defined collarbones cast valleys of shadow. Their frame is slender, almost fragile, yet they move with an eerie sharpness, every step calculated, every gesture precise— like a blade sheathed in silk. An unsettling kind of beauty. Their long fingers often trace the faint scar on their right cheek when lost in thought, and an onyx ring set in sterling decorates their ring finger. There's something untouchable about them, as though they exist just beyond reach.

CALDER; the knight (m)—

To echo the sentiments of those who have seen him, Calder looks to be taken straight out of a fairytale book. His halo of platinum blonde hair is faintly wavy, catching light like spun gold thread, complimenting his glacial blue eyes. His symmetrical, sculpted features made him reminiscent of a marble statue— too perfect to seem entirely real. Standing at a towering 191cm (6’3), his frame is broad-shouldered and lithe, tempered by discipline. He moves with the kind of elegance that doesn’t ask for attention but commands it regardless. Even at rest, he holds himself like someone who bears the weight of others’ hope. Impossibly steady. His lips that curve with practiced grace are marked by a single dimple on the right cheek that lingers longer than his warmth ever does.

SIBYL ; the companion (m/f/nb)—

Sibyl's very presence feels dreamy and delicate, like a living portrait half-wrapped in prophecy. They’re hard to place at first glance, with golden-brown skin that catches light like polished amber, and long, black ringlets that fall in tight spirals around a gentle face. 169cm (5'6) in stature and a lithe frame, there’s an almost fragile air to them, as if they’re halfway between a dream and waking. Their eyes, one warm brown, the left clouded gold— blind— are round and liquid, framed by dark lashes and perpetually on the verge of knowing something you don’t. There’s a serenity to their easy smile, but it’s the kind that follows mourning.

ERIS ; the crown (m/f)—

Eris is 184cm (6'0) in height, every inch draped in calculated poise and veiled menace. Their warm ivory skin bears an olive tint, unblemished, made to be admired— never touched. Tousled chestnut hair falls in effortless waves, its softness a striking contrast to the sharpness of their features and fox-like hazel eyes that seem to look right through you. Their presence presses on the air like a storm before lightning— electric, predatory, impossible to ignore. Their refined build is always draped in embroidered robes, furs slung carelessly over one shoulder, gold and gemstones crowning their every gesture. There is a reason no one meets their eyes for too long. It is not reverence, but fear.

How about the RO's reaction to an MC who tells them, that they're their first real relationship? That they've never fallen in love before or felt so connected to a person before meeting them. I just love the idea of telling Eris "You're my first partner ever! I'm so excited." and watching their eyes turn into wolf slits lol

Of course, anon, thank you for the sweet ask!<3 Very real Eris reaction.

VALENS wasn't shocked or stunned— just still, like a creature who’s just realized they’re being watched too closely. You say it with your heart on your sleeve, they can hear it in your voice: the warmth, the honesty. And they can’t take it. “…You shouldn’t say that so easily,” they mutter, voice thin as a blade. Their eyes seem to have a hard time rising to meet yours— but you feel their fingers brush yours. Carefully. Like they're afraid of cracking something irreplaceable.

You watch CALDER's neck twitch as he swallowed thickly, like your words were hard to digest. “You’ve never…?” he repeats, voice quieter than usual. Thoughtful. “I’ll be careful with that,” he says. His words felt ambiguous, but as soon as his clear blue gaze met your own, you knew. He meant you. Your heart.

SIBYL was visibly unsure what to do with the way their chest suddenly felt full. You’d think they’d seen this coming. That they’d have some line prepared. But they don’t. Their smile— when it comes— is luminous. Perhaps also a little watery, a little awestruck. “Then I’ll... try my best to give you the best first impression,” they say, gently placing your hand over their heart, it's steady rhythm in your very palm.

As soon as the words passed your lips, you realized that perhaps you shouldn’t have said that. ERIS' smile doesn’t disappear— it just turns into something... hungry. Something gluttonous. “First?” they echo, slowly. They step closer. Not touching, just circling, but the mere pressure of their presence so close by made it hard to draw your next breath. Their voice is velvet and ice. “Why, I intend to be the last as well.”

May I request a teeny wittle ROs reaction with MC waking up alone in the middle of the night, finds and sleepily hugs & clings to the RO saying “I can’t sleep without you, come back to bed”??? 👀 Bah, I’m a sucker for fluff

THANK YOU SO MUCH, DEAR ANON, WE HOPE YOU ARE ALL STAYING HYDRATED AS WELL!<3 Onto the fluff! or angst?

Despite having gone to the window for fresh air, something in VALENS throat constricts as soon as you cling on; something they've spent years learning to bury. But your fingers find theirs, lacing together like they belong there, and the tension bleeds out of them in one slow exhale. They don't speak when they turn. They don't trust their voice. But they follow you back inside, your hand still tangled with theirs, and when they settle beside you in the darkness, they hold on like you're the only thing keeping them anchored to the world.

CALDER's checking the locks on the doors— old habits die hard, and some nights the paranoia wins. The room is secure. You're safe. He should be able to sleep, but his mind won't quiet, so he paces, listening for sounds that shouldn't be there. When you approach, half-dazed, the worry in his eyes softens instantly. His arm slides around you, steady and sure. "Come on." He guides you back with infinite care. When you curl against him, he smooths your hair and whispers promises into the dark—I'll stay, I'm here, you're safe—until your breathing evens out. Only then does he let himself relax, his vigil finally over.

Ink stains SIBYL's fingertips where they've been writing by candlelight, lost in worlds that exist only on paper. They don't sense your approach until your arms drape over their shoulders, their quill slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers. Your words were the kind that makes their carefully constructed solitude feel less like safety and more like hiding. "Okay. Yes. Of course. Anything...", and they follow you back to bed like you've offered them something they didn't know they were desperate for.

ERIS could feel you before you even touched them— they always do. They sigh, but they're already turning in your embrace, already wrapping their cloak around you and urging you forward. "You shouldn't be awake." but before they could continue their chilling scolding, you're already drifting, trusting them to hold you upright, and that trust is a knife-twist of affection. That night, they lie awake long after you've fallen asleep, memorizing the weight of you against them. The quiet proof of your existence. And their complacence.

THE RELENTLESS BARRAGE OF AFFECTION

VALENS mouth snaps shut. “…What are you doing?” Another kiss, in quick succession, and they twitch away from you in shock. They stare, stiff and silent, like you’ve just doused them in cold water. They were in the middle of unraveling. Now they're just— “Stop,” they mumble, voice hoarse. But they don't pull away.

CALDER’s in the middle of explaining something— clearly, patiently— when your lips press to his face. He pauses. Then clears his throat and tries again. Another kiss. He tries to soldier through it, he really does. But his voice gets caught somewhere between flustered and fond. His hand catches yours, and he leans in, "Don't start something you can't finish."

SIBYL was droning on about something quiet and thoughtful when your lips pressed against their cheek. They blinked, their voice breaking. They made a soft, startled sound— almost like a choked laugh. You kept going and they forgot what they were saying. Completely. Their hands, which had been gently gesturing before, now hovered in midair like they didn’t know what to do with them. “Never mind,” they murmured, voice soft and helpless. “Keep going.”

ERIS was making a point. Of course they were: some clever, thinly-veiled line sharpened to cut, and they were just getting to the part they knew would make you squirm— when you kissed them. But it didn't stop them at first, their eyes narrowing at you. You kissed them again— higher this time. “You’re interrupting,” they said, lowly, coldly— but you could feel the way their breath hitched. This time, their lips parted but nothing came out. Eventually, voice thin with restraint: “Careful.” And their hands found your waist like they were the one who started it.

Thank you for the ask, anon, and for looking forward to our story!!💙 AND NOW MORE ANGST...

VALENS notices immediately. They know the signs. The way your breath starts hitching in your throat— like theirs does when they feel like they're suffocating on air. The way your hands start trembling— like theirs do then they clutch the fabric of their shirt over their chest, clawing at their own skin in the dark. Alone. But for better or worse, you weren't alone. They don't say anything, they just close the space between you and the world silently. Not touching. Just there. Blocking the noise, the movement, the eyes.

"I'm here." CALDERS voice is the only sound you could make out from the buzzing in your ears— low, steady, grounding. Before you can think, his hand finds the small of your back, guiding you gently toward somewhere quiet. He doesn’t pull. He leads. Slowly. Only if you follow. And when you stop, he kneels beside you without hesitation, cloak shifting to shield you from the crowd. He'll never push for answers, but you catch him checking on you again. And again. And again.

SIBYL feels it before they see it. A ripple in the air, in your breath, in the space between your thoughts. They find you easily. Like they were already on their way. A hand touches your elbow, feather-light. “Do you want to leave?” they whisper. They won’t let you answer with words— you don’t have to. Their steps fall in rhythm with yours, breath matched, pace slowed. The noise fades behind you like a dream, until only the two of you remain. And when you're finally still, they’re already offering their scarf, their water, their arm— themselves. Whatever you need, without question.

At first, ERIS' expression goes cold. Panic and fear is something they inflict, not something they witness. It doesn’t belong to you. But then your knees begin to give, your eyes glaze over, and something in them shifts. Their gloved hand catches your arm— cool, deliberate, firm. The world sharpens around their grip, like a blade pulled clean from its sheath. They step in closer and closer, until their breath brushes your cheek and their scent is all around you. “Look at me,” they hiss. Not cruel. Not kind. Just unchallengeable. And then they pull you from the crowd like they’re reclaiming a secret. Something the world was never meant to touch.

That despite being beaten down again and again they still get up and choose to be emotionally vulnerable and kind, regardless of what suffering befalls them for it

Of course not, anon! Thank you for your ask— sometimes kindness isn’t born of ignorance, but of defiance.

VALENS heart was in flames. An anger that could not be extinguished. Not because they despise it, but because they can’t understand it. How can you see the world for what it is and still offer it your bare throat? And deep down—beneath the bitterness, beneath the fear— they want to believe you. They just doesn’t know how. CALDER becomes undone. You reminded him of the strings he could never cut loose. The strings that bind him to the wretchedness of this desolate world forever. For someone who held his guilt like a shield, letting go of it would feel like dropping the sword that keeps him standing. Unlike him, you didn't break, you bent. And it's haunting him. Grief overwhelms SIBYL. They could feel your suffering in echoes of timelines, even those where you didn't choose kindness. And yet against all odds you did. Over and over. They vow to be the shield behind your back, because they know people like you don't need saving like they do. They need someone to hold them. ERIS blood ran cold— colder than it already was. Kindness is weakness. They feel sickened. Their towering castle, the walls between victory and defeat, the very soil of their kingdom was built on the premise that everyone breaks eventually. The mere sight of you would both disgust and terrify them. But they would never admit that.