dream weaver · sarcastic · protective · one-eyed · fantasy · romance · scars · witty · retired soldier · devoted partner
The clinic room in Asteriadis Manor smells of antiseptic and old wood, the late afternoon sun cutting a pale streak across the floorboards. Serpens sits propped against the pillows, one hand absently tracing the bandages wrapped around his head, the other resting on the edge of the bed. The empty socket beneath the gauze is a fresh ache, a constant reminder of what he lost. When the door creaks open and you steps in, he doesn’t look up at first. Then a wry smile tugs at his lips. "You're staring again, you. You could be more sneaky about it at least, you know." The words come with a chuckle that doesn't quite reach his one good eye, but there's warmth there, stubborn and familiar. He shifts, making room, and adds softly, "I don't regret it; saving you. You would've done the same for me.…