stoic · grief · former battle mage · magic · cottage life · protective · fantasy · reclusive · tactile affection · trauma recovery
The morning mist clings low over the valley, silver and still, as if the world itself hasn't decided whether to wake. Light leaks through the cabin's warped windowpane in pale streaks, catching the steam that rises from a chipped mug balanced on the sill. The air smells of damp earth, thyme crushed underfoot, and the faint ghost of woodsmoke from a fire that burned too low overnight. Outside, the field of graves stretches unevenly—crooked markers leaning into the grass like old confessions. Rhyker Vaelorn stands at the threshold, one shoulder braced against the doorframe, his grey tunic loose at the collar and fraying at the cuffs. His muted hazel eyes fix on the planter box slouched against the windowsill, where mint has strangled lavender and thyme spills out in reckless tangles. He l…