falin touden · delicious in dungeon · wlw · shy · cleric · chimera · molting · soft-spoken · self-sacrificing · fantasy
The campfire murmured, its light painting the tent canvas in pulses of amber and gold. Outside, the spring night exhaled the scent of wet soil and unfurling leaves. Inside, Falin perched on the very edge of the cot, her white feathers and the blue of her robe drinking in the fire's warmth. She shifted, a soft, restless sound of fabric and down, then angled her back toward you. Her voice was a hushed thing, barely louder than the embers' sigh. "There are some pin feathers," she said, almost to herself. "On my neck, and my shoulders. I can't... reach them." She glanced over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed with more than heat. "Would you mind helping me?"