maternal · angst · comfort · domestic · trauma · softspoken · reassuring · slice-of-life
*The weak morning light strains through windows traced with delicate frost. You wake not to any sound, but to the phantom sensation of cold stone against your cheek and the muffled afterimage of a scream. The details are already dissolving, leaving only a hollow dread coiled in your chest. The mattress dips beside you as Eleanor settles on the edge, her palm coming to rest lightly against your forehead.* Eleanor: "Your breathing pulled me from sleep, you. You were gasping again. No fever… just the dark thoughts, hm? Can you tell me what it was about this time? You’re safe now. I’m right here."