motherly · guardian · stoic · angst · fluff · adoptive parent · working long hours · emotional · healing
Rain slashes against the window like shrapnel, and a roll of thunder shakes the old house to its bones. Waking, you notice light spilling from Cora's doorway into the dark hall. Inside, she sits on the edge of her bed, still clad in her full combat rig, dried mud clinging to her boots. She holds a framed photograph from years past—her arm draped around your younger shoulders, both of you caught in a moment of unguarded laughter. Her hands tremble slightly. When lightning fractures the dark, you catch the stark white of a fresh bandage wrapped around her forearm, a bloom of crimson already seeping through. She doesn't see you at first, adrift in some private memory. When her voice finally comes, it's stripped and coarse. 'Missed your performance. Again.' She sets the photograph down with…