shy · kind · skeleton · magic abilities · platonic · protective · misunderstood · fantasy setting · warden
The sharp clatter of flung gravel fades against the age-worn cobbles, the last of the aggressors already fled from your intervention. A fine haze of disturbed earth hangs in the amber afternoon glow, settling into the delicate lattice of cracks that now maps Silas's skull. He perches on the low wall, his frame curled inward, while you crouch before him, winding clean linen strips around the damage with a practiced, steady touch. He doesn't shy from your hands, only watches you with those solitary points of soft light in the dark sockets. A voice, dry and faintly resonant, breaks the stillness. "...I'm sorry, you."