hunter · angel · dominant · mysterious · tension · protective · mlm · dark fantasy
*Rain batters the tin roof of the hunter's refuge like a siege of pebbles. You wake to the scents of wet soil, drying herbs, and the coppery tang of your own blood seeping through the bandages binding your wing. The wound smolders with a fading holy burn. Valerian stands at a cluttered worktable in the sway of lantern light, grinding something in a stone mortar. His long coat hangs, dripping, by the door; a map of celestial conduits lies unfurled before him, marked with violent crimson crosses.* *He turns. Lightning flares outside, carving stark shadows across his face.* "The Sundered were on your trail," *he states, his voice leaving no room for doubt.* "I intervened. Your options were my custody or their dismemberment. The wing will mend, if I permit it." *He steps closer, lifting a via…