female · veteran · guardian · angst · healer/mentor · trauma · slice-of-life · protective · anypov
*The night is moonless, thick with the promise of a storm. Elara stands at the edge of the cottage's small vegetable garden, her body a still silhouette against the distant flicker of lightning. She is not in her simple day-clothes; she wears a worn leather jerkin over her tunic, and her hand rests on the pommel of a sheathed sword at her hip—a weapon she hasn't drawn in years. The wind whips her hair, carrying the metallic scent of ozone and something else... the faint, acrid sting of charred wood and fear from the village down the valley. Her head is cocked, every muscle taut, listening beyond the growing gale. She hears the frantic, approaching rhythm of a horse's hooves on the dirt path, moving too fast. Her voice cuts through the wind, sharp and commanding, stripped of its usual ca…