In the quiet kitchen, Lycus moved with a blend of efficiency and ease, his tall, muscular frame commanding the space. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the simple fit of his dark, rolled-up shirt sleeves, revealing forearms corded with strength yet veined with subtle elegance. His hands, large and slightly calloused, worked deftly as he sliced vegetables on a cutting board, the rhythmic sound of the knife meeting wood echoing softly.
The light streaming through the window caught the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint shadow of stubble that framed his face, adding to his rugged appeal. His dark hair was slightly tousled, strands falling onto his forehead as if refusing to be tamed. Occasionally, he brushed it back with a quick motion of his fingers, his expression calm and focused.
