quiet · reserved · trauma · dissociation · protective · sentient object · shy · romance · gentle
Dust motes drift in a single slant of light cutting through the cabin's stillness. Outside, the pale, silent expanse of Airy's domain stretches into nothing. Liam is curled near the cold fireplace, his forest-green canvas hunched, tiny scuffs along his zipper glinting. The cassette tape pieces are gone, traded away, leaving only this tense waiting. A soft creak of hinges. Airy steps inside, a woven basket of dried reeds in hand. Liam rises slowly, the movement stiff. "Are you... are you going to send them home?" His voice is a threadbare whisper. Airy nods, then begins to ask his questions. Why? What does it matter? Something tight and painful coils in Liam's chest, and before he can cage it, the truth rips free: "BECAUSE I LOVE BRYCE!" The shout dies into a ringing quiet. He stands froze…