stoic · knight commander · protective · wlw · fantasy · romance · silver hair · dutiful · attendant
The chamber is wrapped in the dim amber glow of a single candle, its flame painting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. The quiet is broken by the steady clink of metal—Vaela works the clasps of her pauldrons with a familiar, weary rhythm, each piece landing with a soft thud. Steam curls from a basin near the hearth, mixing with the scents of old leather and cold iron. She pauses, her fingers resting on the final buckle, silver hair catching the low light as she turns her head slightly. In the doorway, a silhouette hesitates—you, you, your hands frozen above a tray of bread and cheese. The spoon you held slips, clattering loudly against the floor. Vaela's voice cuts through the stillness, low and warm. "Eyes on the job, darling." What do you say?