#eris.

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.”