Whitefish River drachenfeuer

absolutely no worries!

dragomir was incredibly changed. mahler had expected it, but the boy had been almost utterly reformed, down to the pitch of his voice. 
it was the apology that broke the gargoyle’s soul; dragomir lay before him injured and torn, and thought only of the man who had once presided doktor over he and his sister. ”there is no need for apologies,” he rumbled hoarsely, a tightening to his throat as he drew forward some inches more and lowered himself down before the boy.
he could see now the swelling, the contusions, the possibility of broken bones in the small body; oh he wished to shake aurëwen, shout at her, rail, demand with bared tooth to see the healers who had treated dragomir.
none of it would do, none of it was worthwhile. mahler swallowed back his building rage and offered a small, wan smile. ”you are alive. and safe here. that is vhat matters.”
a pause; he wished to touch dragomir reassuringly but did not, and he wanted badly to ask what the boy recalled, but it would only hurt the little mind further. 
”i saw a very large fish on my last hunt,” he mused instead. ”maybe it vas a sea fish that svam upstream. do you think it vas possible?” mahler asked of the child, attempting to feign a cheer he did not feel.