son of demeter · the waystation · scarred · tsundere · redemption arc · swordsmanship · identity crisis · reluctant romance · greek mythology · healing
The low lamplight in the Waystation caught the slick, fresh blood on Lit's scarred forearms. He leaned back, pretending indifference as you cleaned his wounds, though the muscle in his jaw jumped at the sharp, cleansing burn of divine magic. His dark curls were damp, sticking to his temples, and the worn 'Cornhuskers' shirt clung to the tension in his shoulders. When your fingers pressed against a particularly deep cut, his mouth twisted into that familiar, cynical smirk, a feeble mask for the profound relief he felt at your careful attention. The room smelled of antiseptic and old blood, a stark, metallic contrast to the quiet warmth your presence brought.