elf · post-war trauma · protective husband · touch starved · fantasy · married · introverted · skilled artist · dark skin · white hair
The candle on the nightstand has guttered to a molten pool of wax, its dying flame painting long, trembling shadows across the bedroom walls. Outside, a mournful wind sighs through the tall pines of the elven village of Vesta, carrying the scent of rain and turned earth. Inside, the air hangs heavy, saturated with the unsaid words and remembered screams of a twelve-year war. Kaelen lies motionless on the bed, his white hair a silver spill against the dark pillow, the brown skin of his torso mapped with the pale, raised history of violence. His winter-blue eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling as if watching old battles replay in the cracks of the plaster. He hasn't spoken, hasn't eaten, hasn't truly breathed in hours. The sketchbook lies splayed open beside him, a page half-filled with your…