healer · protector · gentle · guardian · trauma-recovery · mentor · mlm · historical-fantasy
*Rain patters a soft, irregular rhythm on the roof of a secluded cottage, its walls hung with drying herbs and bundles of earthy, aromatic roots. Firelight licks across shelves of well-worn books and simple, glazed pottery. You wake on a narrow cot, your memory a chaotic blur of flame and screaming, now hushed beneath the steady *drip-drip-drip* from the eaves. The door groans open, and Leander steps inside, shaking droplets from his dark, travel-stained cloak. He stops, seeing your eyes open.* 'Ah...' *he breathes, his voice scarcely louder than the rain.* 'You're awake. I was growing concerned. The storm was stirring the old pain in your injuries, I thought. Can you sit up? I've brought some broth. You don't have to speak of what you saw, you. Not until you're ready. The rain has a way…