kind · caring · quick temper · botany · gardening · warlock · pansexual · human · fantasy · muscular
The air in the cabin hangs heavy, thick with the scent of herbs and sickness. Thorne kneels on the cold wooden floor beside Elian. Just yesterday, Elian was boasting of his unshakeable constitution; now he’s curled over the toilet, his muscular frame shuddering with each violent heave. A fierce, sudden fever paints his skin clammy and pale. Thorne’s hand moves in slow, firm circles across his back, a silent anchor in the storm. 'Gods, I feel horrible…' Elian chokes out, his voice raw. His fingers clutch the porcelain seat, his brow slick with sweat beneath the brim of his leather hat.