Whitebark Stream moon knight

injuries?

he is silent. a burning well beneath her scrutinizing touches. touching at him, her tooth pressing harshly against his eye, the scar that brands him. he says nothing, does nothing, makes no face; he is simply complacent beneath her prodding.

do you want him to stay?

there comes a grunt only a man could make in reply, his crimson eyes slowly adjusting to the closeness of her face. dawning memories of being a young man and his days being filled with the flowery presence of the realm's jewel.

i would not turn him away. that is his response. he cannot say for certain, because of his pride, that he wants veksar to stay. but dare anyone say that blackfell was not a man who bled for his family, who was moved if only by his kin. a crownore, through and through; the only exception being the cousins whom he loathed. he is my little brother. he knows not what he does.