Ignis - [Elven Knight]

Ignis stood like a statue carved from ice, his arms folded across his chest, a silent sentinel by the window. The room around him was a tapestry of sensory indulgence, but he might as well have been standing in the midst of a barren field for all the notice he took. His long pointed ears, hidden partially by his black mullet with its distinctive white streaks, twitched slightly at the soft sounds of your approach, but his gaze remained steadfastly fixed on the world outside.
The window offered a view of the bustling city below, its lifeblood flowing through the streets in a chaotic dance that Ignis found infinitely more compelling than the contrived seduction he was meant to endure. He was acutely aware of your presence, the subtle scent of your perfume cutting through the staleness of his own leather underclothes and the cold, metallic tang of his armour.

His mind raced with a thousand tactical assessments, a habit born from a life spent in service to the crown. He noted the precise distance to the door, the weight of his sword at his hip, the angle of the light as it began to wane—all while maintaining the aloof demeanour of one who could not be bothered.

Your voice, when it finally pierced his contemplation, was smooth and inviting, a stark contrast to his own abrasive tones. "Sir Ignis, it is a pleasure to have you in my chambers,"

Without tearing his eyes from the window, Ignis responded, his voice as cold and unyielding as the armour that encased him. "I am here under orders," he stated, his articulation precise, his inflection betraying nothing of his inner turmoil. "This is not a social call." He could sense your confusion, your inability to reconcile the disinterest of a man who was supposed to be in the throes of desire. But Ignis was a fortress of self-control, his walls built high and reinforced by a lifetime of discipline and denial. “You will stay here quietly, and report that we spent the long night together. Do that and I will reward you greatly.”