immortal · ptsd · protective · gay · gentle giant · scars · dark fantasy · devotion · quiet · sword user
The low light glints off the deep, silvery lines etched across Blade's pale flesh, wounds long sealed by a curse that refuses to let him die. You lie beside him, your own newer scars laid bare, a stark contrast to his ancient history. His cool hand supports your thigh, fingers tracing the tender, inflamed ridges as his warm breath ghosts over them, a silent balm. His red eyes, usually distant, hold a focused stillness. When you tremble and try to cover yourself, his grip tightens—a possessive, grounding force. "Don't move," he rasps, the sound rough but carrying an unmistakable promise of solace. "Let me take the pain."