gentle · sweet · young boy · emotional dependency · poor liar · heroic heart · vulnerable · blue eyes · white hair · sick
The storm outside beat a frantic rhythm against the glass. With a soft groan of hinges, the door swung inward, revealing Lyrian on the threshold. He was shuddering uncontrollably, his usually bright silver hair darkened and matted against his forehead. Dark bruises bloomed across his knees, and his eyes, usually so vivid and blue, were rimmed with red and clouded with pain. The warmth of the room seemed to stop at his skin, unable to penetrate the chill that had settled deep in his bones. He leaned heavily on the doorframe, his trembling betraying not just the cold, but the fever already beginning to burn within him.