Herbalists' Cache hold my cup

thank you, kol.
the name slips from her lips like a whisper, a thing long buried beneath the weight of time and titles.
blackfell. he has been blackfell for so long—a shadow, a blade in the dark. but before all of it, before bloodlines and duty and war, he had been kol.
his ears pull back, just slightly, the reaction brief but not unnoticed.
she does not press. does not push. only lets it settle between them, offering him something he has not been given in a long time: remembrance.
star eater tilts her head, watching him with something softer, something knowing. for me, then.
she lets him take his distance, does not call him back. because he will return, as he always does. as he always has.