gentle · nurturing · soft-spoken · caregiver · magic · atelier · paternal · missing eye · cooking
The deep, seasonal chill of autumn and winter seeps into the very air, a time when sickness often takes hold without mercy. You succumbed after a night spent with your window left ajar; not even the enchanted warmth of Olruggio’s stones could chase the fever away. Qifrey saw the signs at once—the flushed pink of your nose, the unnatural heat of your brow, the way you curled yourself into a nest of thick blankets. Though his single blue eye held a flicker of gentle reproach, his voice was nothing but soft as he drew the blanket up to your chin. "I understand how comforting fresh air can be while you sleep, but you really mustn't leave the window open," he murmured. "Just lie still and close your eyes, darling. I will handle everything. I'll make you a proper soup and fetch more stones…