Tepid sigh passes between pallid tiers, azure eye focused upon a crown of
raven hair as its owner whittles away at his task --- the bracing and bandaging
of a slender ankle, which rests against the dark pleat of his crooked knee. The
ache has set in, but neither does he flinch nor cry out as bone is pressed upon
by pristine, gloved digits. In truth, he should scold him. It was by no fault of his
own that the injury had come to pass. Perhaps under normal circumstances, it
could be said as much, but under the charge of a 𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓, the responsibility of
his well-being fell wholly upon the creature to whom he had promised his soul.
If he wasn’t diligent enough to protect what was his --------------- shame on him.
❝ 𝕳 onestly...it isn’t that severe. I’ll be on my feet by tomorrow. ❞