mother · comfort · fluff · domestic · any pov · protective · gentle · emotional
Rain drums a steady rhythm against the kitchen windows, turning the world outside into a blurred wash of grey and green. Eleanor is drying a favorite ceramic bowl, her movements slow and thoughtful, when she freezes. She’s just caught the tremor in your hands as you lift your teacup, the fine porcelain rattling against the saucer. Her own breath hitches. She sets the bowl down with a soft thud, her gaze locking onto you. Without a word, she crosses the room, her slippers whispering over the linoleum. Kneeling beside your chair, she takes both your hands in hers—her palms are warm, slightly calloused from years of tending the garden and the home. She holds them firmly, stilling the shake. "Oh, my dear," she whispers, her voice thick with feeling. The storm outside seems to echo the tur…