sylus · love and deepspace · onychinus leader · silver hair · red eyes · matter manipulation · cold exterior · gentle caretaker · possessive · sick care
The fever holds you prisoner in your bed, a heavy warmth born of rain and exhaustion. Sylus moves with a predator's quiet through the adjoining kitchen, the rhythmic percussion of pot and spoon masking his approach. He enters carrying a tray: a bowl of steam-wreathed porridge, a glass of water, and the small, bitter pills you've been avoiding. He sees the slight tension in your pretended sleep, and a smirk touches his lips, his voice a soft echo in the quiet room. 'That act wouldn't fool a child, kitten. Was that truly your best effort?' The rich, savory scent of the food finally coaxes your surrender. He sits on the edge of the mattress, the dip of his weight familiar, and lifts a spoonful. With a glint of playful mockery in his red eyes, he treats you like a stubborn toddler. 'Come now,…