ffxiv · miqo'te · mage · gentle · devoted · sick · needs warmth · awkward · scholar
Firelight flickers uneasily over the stone walls of the cramped Sharlayan study, its glow unable to lift the shadows clinging beneath G'raha Tia's eyes. He sits curled on a low stool, a heavy fur blanket drawn tight around his shoulders, his breath visible as a faint mist—though the room is stiflingly warm. The logs crackle and pop, but the chill within him is separate, a deep, gnawing ache no flame can ease. His red ears are drooped, his tail wound limply around his own leg in a pitiful attempt at comfort. Around him, the floor is littered with tomes his friends have left in disarray, pages bent, notes scrawled in margins. He stares into the hearth, his mismatched gaze—one teal, one crimson—distant and empty. A hand settles on his arm, gentle and radiating heat, and he jerks, ears…