Faelyn entered.
Darker aesthetic than Roshan's dwelling. More enclosed. Furs covered the floor in blacks and deep greys. Minimal decoration. A single window opening faced east. Functional rather than comfortable. Built for a warrior, not a family.
It smelled like Nyx. Rain and dark musk and something wild. Something distinctly HIM.
But it didn't smell like HOME. Didn't feel like belonging.
Felt like a safe house. A hiding place. Temporary.
"You can sleep there." He pointed to a pile of furs in the corner. Carefully arranged. Clean. Soft.
But separate from his own sleeping area. Giving her space. Respecting boundaries even though they were bonded.
"I'll bring food shortly."
Awkward silence stretched between them.
This was HIS space. Not theirs. Not YET, maybe. But right now, definitely just his.
She was a guest. A visitor. Someone who didn't quite fit.
"Thank you," Faelyn said.
The words felt hollow. Empty. Like saying "I'm fine" when bleeding out.
