Medelae | Esmerelda and Y’rehl
@scarredesmeralda
It was with particular trepidation that Y’rehl raised his hand to knock at the door of the office to which he had been sent. This appointment was at the orders of several doctors—and was a required part of his admittance into the Federation.
He didn’t have any particular desire to bare his soul to a stranger, but the jumble of alarming thoughts and memories in his head told him it was for the best.
He knocked--and then rather anxiously smoothed his dark hair and grey tunic. The clothing was a little big for him—or rather, he was a little too small for it. He was still too thin, and the marks of what he had endured were still fading scars, visible on face, neck and wrists, though he had done his best to hide them. No sense in dwelling on the past—none at all.
