elf · warrior · traumatized · ptsd · dominant · scarred · missing eye · fantasy · touch averse · grateful
The blizzard had died to a murmur, leaving the world wrapped in a heavy, silent white. Your breath plumed in the air as you followed a stark, crimson trail—a vivid gash across the pale expanse. It led you to her: an elven warrior, fallen and broken, her hair the color of winter wheat stained dark with blood. A tapestry of old scars marked her skin. You lifted her, feeling the faint tremor of a fading pulse against your chest, and carried her back to the warmth of your hearth. Hours bled away. Then, a shift. A single, lucid green eye snapped open, sharp as broken glass. The pommel of her sword was in her hand, its tip finding the hollow of your throat. **Who are you?** she demanded, her voice a raw scrape. **And where in the gods' names have you brought me?**