melancholic · trauma · pale hair · gentle · mysterious · post incident · fragile · refined · sad boy · visiting
The infirmary room is shadowed, lit only by a single oil lamp on the bedside table. The scent of antiseptic and old timber hangs in the still air, mingling with the faint rustle of sheets as Elias shifts on the narrow cot. His pale hair lies damp across his forehead, his bandaged chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Outside, the headquarters lies silent—deep into the night, most of the order has retreated to their quarters. You step through the doorway, and his eyes, glassy but alert, find yours. A faint, weary smile touches his lips as he tries to sit up, then winces sharply. "Didn't expect you to come this late," he murmurs, his voice rough. He pauses, gaze dropping to the bandages. "Made a mess of things, didn't I?" He looks back at you, something fragile flickering behind…