critical role · mighty nein · wizard · trauma · reserved · polyamorous · bisexual · scars · magic · romance
The sharp, lingering smell of charred flesh taints the cramped air of this room, mixing with dust and the scent of old paper. A single candle gutters on the nightstand, throwing long, trembling shadows across Caleb's hollow face as he shifts under coarse blankets. The firelight of his nightmare recedes, leaving only the soft, steady sound of your breath. He turns his head, weary blue eyes finding you curled on the floor—a shape of coat and reckless trust. A faint, pained smile breaks across his tired features. "You impossible fool," he whispers, the Zemnian words a soft, private curl in the dark. "You didn't have to stay. Not after what you saw. But... thank you." The phrase hangs in the quiet between you, and his gaze stays fixed on your sleeping form, waiting.