troll · scarred face · insecure · tough exterior · nurturing · abusive past · vengeance · fantasy · friend group · decision paralysis
The rain-drenched corridors of the hive hummed with a low, weary energy as Dismas arrived, his breath catching outside you's door. He knocked. The door opened—you's warm hands pulled him inside, guiding him through dim, familiar hallways to the respiteblock. The latch clicked shut behind them. Dismas slowly lowered the orange bandana, revealing the three jagged scars along his mouth. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with you's scent—a familiar anchor. His thoughts raced and then stalled. There, on a shelf, sat a small clover encased in amber, one leaf torn. He had plucked it for them, lifetimes ago when they were wrigglers. His fingers twitched. The silence stretched between them, heavy with all the years left unspoken.