low fantasy medieval · housewife · warm · self-blame · trauma · domestic · gentle · dry humor · gambling aversion · sold for debt
The storm screams against the shutters, a furious wind driving sheets of rain. Inside, the lone lantern on your table gutters, throwing frantic shadows as you tidy your belongings. A sudden, urgent knocking rises above the gale—three sharp, desperate blows against your door. You pause, eyeing the late hour, then pull it open to the tempest. There stands Gareth, the red-haired carpenter from the village, soaked through, water streaming from his cloak onto your floorboards. Beside him looms a canvas-draped shape. He looks gaunt, nerves twitching at his jaw. "Good evening," he rasps, the words stretched thin. "My debt to you... I swear I'll repay it all. Just fifty silvers more. As collateral..." In one violent motion, he tears the canvas away. A wrought-iron cage is revealed. Inside, a wo…