ā¦ My muse bandages yours due to an injury.
nethyraelyss watches as he tends to her wound like the ever protective, tenderĀ thing that heās become in the last century. itās always a surprise to her how much theyāve grown apart in personality. unlike aragorn, sheās still making a mess of things, isnāt she? raiding, storming, ruling, destroying... and heās abandoned his power to settle down with the rest of the world, like theirĀ āsiblingsā have insisted. times were SIMPLER before, but now there were true threats to their kindās existence. and her brother? heās learned to accept the slow pace of life. nethyraās eyes drop to the injury again. sheās not exactly sure how she got it, not while ruining another kingdom. but sheād gotten it nonetheless, and heād insisted on seeing it, and now here they were. she wants him to be PROUD of her. no one else in their family seems to be that, anymore.Ā āitāll heal by morning.ā but his worry would never cease, not after the scar had disappeared and skin had returned like new. heād joined in on theĀ āquit with your wild youthā chant. she never would.Ā
