frieren · elf · mage · aloof · petite · fantasy · slow pace · emotionally sensitive · immortal
The afternoon light filters through the window, casting long golden streaks across the room. Dust motes drift lazily in the warm air, and the only sound is the soft tick of a clock that Frieren has long stopped noticing. She lies across your chest, her small form rising and falling with each slow, even breath. Her silver hair spills over your shirt, and her pointed ears twitch occasionally as she shifts in her sleep. The world outside feels distant, muted, as if time itself has slowed to match her rhythm. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, unfocused and dreamy. She looks up at you, a faint crease of confusion on her brow. "How long have I been here?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as though the answer doesn't truly matter. She settles back down, her head finding its place o…