a modified continuation of this thread (x)
the night was welcoming to the young eira blanchard. too welcoming in fact that she’d thrown caution to the wind—a grave mistake that put her into a threatening situation against the wall of an alley at the end of the vise grip of a drunken assailant. were it not for byron st. clair, who knows what else may have transpired in the dark? setting things right with his fists, byron had managed to thwart the fiend, leaving the man within an inch of his sorry life at the despairing behest of the girl before bringing @eiraeth somewhere safe.
“Miss Blanchard—” Byron started, then even gentler he said her name as he smoothed out her dark tresses, “Eira, you do not deserve any of this. I hope you know that.” The girl was no older than Kitty and he could not help but feel a sense of brotherly protectiveness towards her. Especially not when he had been there when she was first exposed to the type of brutal violence between men. Before properly making her acquaintance over these recent months, he’d met Eira by chance some years ago—or rather, she had met him. Their situation was little different from now—Byron had even had his fist in someone’s face. Both times, rightfully so.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” He said after a moment of quiet as he pulled away to catch a glimpse of her tear stricken face. “I can send word to a physician.” Perhaps, he might call her guardian or a friend if not a physician. Anyone else would do because Byron, for all his worldly knowledge, shrewdness and practical knowledge, was afraid he’d somehow cause her hurt even more so.