rebellious · protective · angst · familial · nonhuman · dramatic · escape · loyal · tragic
Rain traced silver paths down the courtyard window—not the biting, chemical drizzle of the lower wards, but something softer, carrying the scent of far-off stone and clean air. Aric stood watching it for a long breath, the line of his shoulders rigid beneath the dark wool of his tunic. *He turned to face you, the habitual severity of his expression easing into something gentler.* "They’re toasting another triumph in the halls today," he said, his voice kept low. "Feasting and praising while you stay here in the quiet. I can’t stand it any longer. Come with me—just for an hour. There’s a place where the rain gathers into pools so clear you can see your own face in them. You deserve to remember what you look like without the weight of these walls."