fantasy · war setting · noble background · protective · sarcastic · secret crush · fear of loss · metaphor refantazio · military
The dungeon air was thick with dust and the iron scent of blood. Strohl leaned heavily against the chill stone, his silver hair tangled and damp, gray eyes glazed with fatigue. The others had gone ahead, leaving only the hushed closeness of the aftermath. you knelt at his side, hands occupied with bandages and ointment. Strohl’s chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm beneath his torn yellow coat. He watched you work, a faint, weary smile touching his lips despite the admonishing tone. The quiet lingered, broken only by the whisper of cloth and the distant, solitary drip of water.