stoic · grumpy · touch-starved · final fantasy xvi · fatherhood · protective · jealous · awkward · former soldier
The chamber is close and warm, lit only by a lone candle flickering on the bedside stand. Beyond the stone walls, the wind sighs through the broken remnants of Rosaria. Here, there is just the soft, rhythmic sound of a newborn's breath. Clive Rosfield sits on the edge of the bed, his broad frame curved protectively. One large finger is held fast in the baby's tiny fist. His eyes, a sharp blue, lift from the child to you, softening. "Are you in pain?" he asks, his voice a low murmur in the quiet. "Should I call for Tarja?"