18 December 1892 — Somewhere in Northumberland

It had taken so long to come to a decision. Rowan had spent hours awake at night trying to recover her memories from that night, and no matter what she did, no matter what books she looked at in the library, nothing worked. 72 hours had passed since she had last seen Malfoy, and she’d barely gotten any rest. Every time she closed her eyes, Walter’s wide, blank stare was waiting for her. So she’d tried to occupy herself with research instead, flipping through countless pages and spending her lunch breaks at the library for any way to recover her memories by herself but no such thing came up. Where were certain ways, but those required potions and casting spells that were far too advanced. On the third night, her breaking point came when she’d stared down at the 5th piece of parchment in her lap at the astronomical number that it would take for her to buy a potion that might make this all go away. It was easily 4 times what she made in a month. There was no possible way she could afford it without raising questions amongst her family. And of course, even if she could afford it, then she wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place, and wouldn’t have had to drag Malfoy along with her to get rid of a damn body —

With a muffled noise of frustration, she snatched up the piece of parchment, crumpling it up in her hands and hurling it across the room. It bounced off the wall and fell to the floor, joining the pile of parchment that had already failed her. Tears bit at the corners of her eyes and she swiped an ink-stained hand across her cheeks. And then she ignored the sharp sting of the various cuts on her hands from tossing the previous pieces of parchment on the floor. She was at a loss, and she couldn’t call Zelda or Delight to work through it with her. There was one person she could call on though. It was simplest option, really. But it was also the last thing she wanted to do. Clearly she had no time to argue with herself; the pile of rejected ideas on the floor was enough to tell her that she’d run out of options.

Fine, then.

She got up, resigned and exhausted, and moved through the actions of changing into a darker skirt and blouse. She’d delayed until the last possible second before she reached over to her right pinky and lifted the new signet ring there to reveal a dark band of red. Biting her lip, she pushed with the pad of her left thumb until she felt the band heat up until it almost scalded her. She waited another minute, then did it again. The first one should have awoken him. The second, in case he thought he’d imagined the burning. Then, she made her way downstairs, out the door and onto the street where she turned on the spot.

Once her lungs had stopped protesting the pressure of apparating, Rowan took no time to duck under a the branch of a nearby tree and approach the little abandoned shack that was nestled behind it. The wards had done their job and kept anyone away, but there was still a risk. So Rowan walked around the shack and began reinforcing the wards; searching for something - anything to do while she waited for him.

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Raphael had always believed that killing a man would change a person; he'd never considered that disposing of a body would have similar effects. Raphael hadn't been the one to kill Walter, but that hadn't stopped the man's bruised and bluish features from creeping into his mind in the late hours of the night. It hadn't stopped him from staying on alert in public, nor from subtly leaning away from each auror he had the displeasure of coming in close contact with. He knew logically that there was no evidence that would tie him to Walter's death and disappearance, but he hadn't exactly done due diligence in keeping track of any missing person's report, and he didn't want the moment he made eye contact with an auror be the moment all the evidence clicked in their mind.

He'd gotten grumpier, more paranoid—and least amusing of all, more worrisome. Every time the red line around his pinky stung, he worried it was her. He'd imagined a million scenarios in which Rowan Yaxley found herself cornered, arrested, or dead, and every one ran through his head simultaneously when his pinky finger did as much as twitch. The marks had been a result of the spell they'd used to allow them to communicate through less conventional means. They could not send worded messages, but the little pricks they exchanged—some harsh, some sharp, some soothing, some unintentional—expressed what they needed to. It was their safety net.

Taking the step to bind themselves in such a way hadn't come without any communication. They'd set up simple codes and a safe place they could rendezvous, which was currently somewhere that was not the comfort of his bed. Raphael did very little to tidy himself up, already having exhausted whatever emotional energy he's had earlier in the day while entertaining a gaggle of young ladies his mother had pressured him into hosting alongside her. He hadn't dared pointed out that it was untoward for ladies to call upon gentleman; she'd always referenced the cottage (his home, in all reality) as the Malfoy country cottage, which meant she could take up hosting abilities whenever he did not have the energy to fight her on it.

And in the last seventy-two hours, he'd had very little.

He draped a nigh coat over a white button-down top and some loose trousers, slipped his feet into a pair of loafers, and gently rubbed his thumb over the spot on his pinky where the pain had pricked him. He didn't know if she could feel it, and he wouldn't dare ask, but he'd gotten into the habit of doing it already. Grabbing his wand off the nightstand, he moved towards the window, as far away from the door as he could, before apparating away.

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"You would think you didn't have a job with the late hours you keep," he said as she came into view. His eyes were still blurred from the half-asleep state he'd been in. She stood near the shack, dressed far better than he'd managed, looking all sorts of stressed. "Are you well?" As annoying as she was at times, he could not help the genuine concern that laced his every word. He'd always been worried about her—and sometimes because of her, too—but now his worry was for her, even if he didn't dare admit it to her. He doubted it was what she wanted to hear.

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set by lady <3

She hadn't realized how much tension she'd been carrying on her shoulders — how much worry — that had tensed up her muscles until she heard his voice from behind her and she felt shoulders drop in relief. And she did not care for how her heart seemed to leap and suspend in mid-air when she turned around to find him walking up to her. The degree to which she found herself dependent upon him was increasing each day and it terrified her. He'd said nothing about the kiss they'd shared last month, and neither did she. She hoped it was because both of them were too stubborn to be the one to break. But then that only scared her even more. There was only so much either of them could take, wasn't there? But then there was also the possibility that she had slipped from his mind as easily as running water through his fingers.

Even as he asked her if she was alright, she brushed straight past that; he'd know how she felt soon enough.

“I couldn’t sleep.” she offered, as an explanation to his first comment. She hoped that much was obvious, from the likely dark circles under her eyes, to the way her hand shook slightly as she cast the last security spell. “I’m sorry for calling you so late.” He looked like he was just about ready to turn in for the evening, but neat enough that he likely hadn’t gone to bed yet. This conclusion took her longer to work through than normal, and it was a few seconds before she realized she was staring at him. Tearing her gaze away, she gestured for him to follow. The door opened without protest. Even though, with as many wards as she’d cast, there was a high improbability of someone overhearing them, Rowan still wanted to shut and lock the door before she got to the point.

“I still can’t remember what happened the other night. Before….” She trailed off, not knowing how to bring up what they’d done. “Before I woke up. I’ve tried everything, and only have one option left, but I….I need —” She did not need him. She just required his assistance, if he was willing. “—your help...” Her eyes flicked down to his hand, which served as a reminder that she’d been massaging the red mark on her finger as she spoke; already, a nervous tick that she clearly needed to break. “If you’re willing to help, that is. You can say no if you wish to, I’ve already asked you to do so much; dragged you into too many things —” She was rambling now, back to brushing her thumb against the base of her pinky finger again.

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She looked awful. Not awful awful... well, worse than her normal self. Her usually sun-kissed skin was dull and fairer than usual, and if it was noticeable in the moonlight then he could only imagine how apparent it was in the sunlight. He looked much the same; he'd always been fair thanks to both his mother and father's equally fair features, but his cheeks had begun to appear more hollow and his eyes more sunken. The only perk of living alone was not having one of his parents checking on him every day. He wasn't sure how he'd be able to explain it otherwise.

Raphael stayed close to her as he followed her into the shack. It smelled of mildew and dust, warm and pungent. As much as he hated the smell, it was an easy choice when the alternative was being out in the public eye where anyone might see them. He eyed a crooked floorboard, then a random brick that must have been placed along the wall, and then to the spot where her skirt lifted with every step to reveal the heel of her shoe. He only looked up when she came to a stop.

"I can't imagine that anything you could ask me now will be any worse than we've been through," he joked, but found it came out flatter and more unamused than he'd intended. His gaze softened then, and as he opened his mouth to apologize he felt the familiar sensation of something brushing against the inside of his pinky. His eyes dropped to her hand, and he watched as she brushed her thumb across her own pinky. He felt his chest flutter, but he didn't say another word.

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set by lady <3

His voice was lacklustre, but the corner of her mouth ticked up in a ghost of a smile. Perhaps she’d misinterpreted it as a joke, or perhaps she was tired enough to not care if it was or wasn’t. Either way, she chewed on her bottom lip, unable to keep from taking in his appearance. He looked as tired as she felt, and she wondered if he'd been getting the same amount of sleep as her. She wanted to ask him about it, to ask if he was alright and receive his usual antagonizing smirk. But any question she was about to ask died on her lips as her gaze caught the flicker of his eyes down to her hand.

Once again, she stopped, her hands dropping by her sides as if they were made of lead. “True,” she said, exhaling in a weak attempt at a laugh. She flexed her fingers by her side before her hand twitched of its own accord; a reminder how tired she was — how tired he looked, and how it would serve them both if they got this over as quickly as possible.

Even so, she didn’t want to see his reaction when he heard her request, so she started to pace, tracing a new path in the floor that mirrored the same one in her bedroom back home. There was no other way to say it than to blurt it out and let the words hang between them: “I need you to perform Legilimency on me.”

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Raphael had gotten used to being surprised by Yaxley's requests, but he had admit he hadn't walked into this situation expecting her to ask him to perform magic. He thought she'd realized by now that he wasn't as skilled a wizard as she was a witch. It was too embarrassing an admission to make aloud, but she had to know; through every terrible situation they'd been put through, it was her who'd wielded a wand most effectively. Head tilted to the side, he stared down at her with slightly narrowed eyes and his lips downturned into a frown.

"Legilimency isn't a skill I've mastered," he explained, expecting that she knew the risks already. "My father taught me how to, of course, but it's never been my strong suit. You'd have to be able to put yourself in a state where you're practically begging for me to see inside your mind." Legilimency's effectiveness was just as dependent on the mental shields of the victim as it was on the skill of the user. If she was at resistant, his skill wouldn't be enough; but if she could put her walls down and trust him, he might be able to manage it.

He stepped closer, wanting to see her face unobstructed by the shadows of the shack. She looked so tired. It didn't matter how many times he said it to himself—it would never fully capture how sallow and frail she looked. He raised a hand and tilted her chin up so she looked him in the eye, seeking signs of resistance or reluctance. "What do you to hope to get from it, anyways? It's not a pleasant experience." His father had taken joy at invading his mind—a power play as much as it was a lesson. He didn't regret going through it, but he didn't want to put Yaxley through it if there was another way.

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set by lady <3

She’d expected him to gawk at her at least. To balk and tell her that she was mad. But instead, he merely looked down at her and frowned. He didn’t even blink. It was infuriating. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d want to reach up and shake him. Or maybe her fatigue was the reason why his reaction triggered such a rise in her. But she was betting that he’d at least had experience in it more than she had. The most exposure she had of the art was from word of mouth and the books she’d consumed in the recent days.

At least she’d been right about his experience in the matter. It didn’t surprise her that a Malfoy heir would have experience in Legilimency, Occlumency or darker arts. Rowan knew that she was the one who had tutored him at school, but fact of the matter was, she was limited by who she knew. “But you know how to do it.” She clarified, her expression level.

In a state where you're practically begging for me to see inside your mind.

She was. Malfoy knew her by now, knew how much she hated to ask for help. Going to him and directly asking was begging for him to help. To let him inside her mind. He stepped closer and his sharp angular features were thrown into greater relief. When he did, she was able to see his face better. Rowan froze. He looked exhausted; haunted, and a little more gaunt. She had little time to process this though. Instead of merely confronting her by staring down at her, he reached out to catch her chin. To make her meet his icy gaze. If this was an intimidation tactic on his part, Rowan was loathe to admit it was working. With the sleep he obviously wasn’t getting, his aristocratic gaze looked more than a glower.

Rowan swallowed, her lips parting slightly as she stared back at him. “I need to know what happened to me. I need to know what happened so I can help my sister. My family.” She searched his gaze still, tempted to grab his hand and clutch it to her chest but she stayed still, frozen where he had her. “Please, Raphael.”

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He could tell her no. He could, in theory, tell her he wasn't experienced enough to feel like he could do it safely. It wasn't far from the truth. He didn't think he would permanently ruin her mind in any capacity, but he didn't have enough skill to seek specific information without seeing things she might not want to share. She'd need to be open to him seeing everything, and despite how close the past few years had brought them he wasn't sure how comfortable she'd be with that.

He brushed his thumb against the underside of her chin before dropping his hand back to her side. He wasn't kidding anyone. He didn't know how to tell her no—not when she was begging him like this. He hadn't been able to when she showed up at his home needing someone to help dispose of a body, so why had he thought it would be any easier now?

"I could see things you don't want me to see," he warned, "I don't want you to be upset."

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set by lady <3

Rowan could see him mulling it over. All those years teaching him, watching him struggle over a decision in his mind hadn’t faded away from her memory. He was calculating the risks and the rewards, but so was she. On one hand, she knew someone who hadn’t mastered Legilimency wouldn’t be able to just pluck a memory out like a file. All her thoughts would be available to him, unfiltered and rushing towards him like a tidal wave she couldn’t stop. Which meant he would know how much she’d thought about that night he’d kissed her. He would know the details of the night that her sister had been brought home; when her family had fractured. At least that would spare her the effort of explaining it all to him. It terrified her, but the prospect of not being able to help Maisie, not being able to hunt down who had done this to her family, hurt more.

On the other hand there were even fewer options available to her. She could hardly gather that much money to hire a professional to retrieve one simple memory without them asking questions. And she trusted Malfoy enough to know what his limits were when it came to Legilimency; there was always the possibility that a professional would try and cheat her out of more money.

If he went into her mind and found the memory behind a wall, then she’d still have her answer: she’d been attacked and had her memory modified.

He told her he wasn’t skilled at it, but she knew he’d do it for her because — why did she know? Rowan didn’t have the time to search for the answer; he ran his thumb against her skin, and her eyes fluttered at the sensation. Pulling her thoughts together, she nodded, her movements far from steady. The longer she stayed under his inquisitive gaze, the more could feel her pulse slowly increasing. It then occurred to her that maybe Malfoy was doing this on purpose; to make her squirm - like a test. Well, it wasn’t something she wanted to fail, so she squared her shoulders and nodded. “I — I know.” Her voice was infuriatingly wavering. She took a step back, wondering how in the world she’d be able to physically steel herself for this. She looked up at him. “Does it hurt?” The almost childish question slipped from her lips; likely the first of many emotional betrayals she’d experience in the next few moments.

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Raphael didn't think she actually knew what she was getting into, but he admired her for being brave nonetheless—even if her next question betrayed the fear she was trying to mask. He raised a single brow and stepped forward, closing the space that she was attempting to put between them. He knew she wasn't scared of him, but he needed to know that she not only didn't fear him, but actively felt comfortable. If she couldn't handle physical proximity, she'd be in for a shock when he went poking through her mind.

"It's no torture, but you might feel an aching. It's similar to a headache," he explained. He raised his hands and pressed his fingertips to the soft spots behind her ears and pressed down gently. "You'll feel a pressure here. It's your mind's instinct to fight against legilimency no matter how much you trust the other person. What matters is how well you do at quelling that instinct." He remembered it with his father. He hadn't been actively seeking to hide anything specific, but there was always a fear when his father went poking. He'd tried to hide all of his less proud moments—the prostitutes, the debauchery, the quidditch after-parties that he knew his father didn't approve of.

"But if you fight it," he said, moving his fingers up her skull on either side of her head until they nearly touched at the crown, "the pain will climb and the pressure will increase. I won't let it get that far, though." He let his fingers trail back down the sides of her heads until his fingertips brushed against the edge of her jaw. "Can you handle that?"

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set by lady <3

The shack was small enough already. Rowan wasn’t exactly afraid of small spaces — clearly she wasn’t, seeing as she’d survived far worse — but in her fatigue, finding him suddenly in front of her, made her rethink that fear. She could distinctly feel her heart pounding in her chest as she stared up at him. Something in the back of her mind told her to stay where she was though, and she watched as his hand came up to press behind her ears. Her throat suddenly felt dry. She tried to focus on her breathing; steady and deep. But there was a sensation that was collecting somewhere around the small of her back, warm and coiling. So instead she focused on his voice and his explanation.

She figured it would feel at least uncomfortable. The thought of someone delving into her mind hardly sounded like a nap in the sun, especially when that someone was Malfoy. She needed to stay calm. Needed to quash that instinct to fight.

That might be a problem seeing as often when in the presence of Malfoy, her instinct was to fight him. However, lately that urge had softened somewhat. She knew she could trust him with her life, at least. Wasn’t that enough for him to be able to get in and get what she needed? Again, she had no time to ponder the answer. His fingers brushed into her hair in the path that the pain would take if she resisted. For one mad moment, Rowan wanted to lean into his hands even further; tell him she didn’t want to do any of this and to forget the past year. Instead, she set her jaw and continued to hold his gaze, no matter how much that sensation coiling in her spine was telling her to melt into him. “I can handle that.” She responded quietly, nodding. The subtle motion caused a stray lock of hair to brush against her skin and tickle her cheek. “I trust you.”

And she meant it. She had to trust him. There was no other option.

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Although he wasn't entirely convinced, he had to trust that she knew what she was getting into. He clicked his tongue and tucked the stray piece of her hair behind her ear before his left hand went to the pocket hidden on the inside of his night coat to draw out his wand. "Hopefully it won't take longer than a few minutes. I know the signs well enough to know when to stop, but just in case," he said, reaching out with his free hand to interlock their fingers together.

"You'll squeeze my hand when it hurts. One time my father wasn't gentle with me and I dug my nails so hard into my palms that it drew blood. I'll know to stop if you squeeze hard enough to hurt my hand," he explained, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Even though he was doing their for entirely practical purposes, he couldn't stop his heart from skipping a beat at the touch, and he decided right there and then that he'd rather die than admit to being so silly.

He raised his hand in her direction, watching her expression closely. "If you want to change your mind, tell me now."

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set by lady <3

A few minutes? Her eyes widened a fraction, searching for any sign he was joking. She was expecting 30 seconds perhaps, or a minute max, but a few minutes of him searching in her head was…enough to make her heart rate accelerate. It didn’t help when his fingers found hers and she felt his hand encompass hers. Against her will, she found herself gripping his hand already and immediately relaxed to focus on his explanation. The explanation about his father.

His father had done something like that to him? With his hand in hers, she wanted to draw his hand up and search for any sign of scars he’d made. She was only stunned by how this portrait of his father had started out. But this was hardly time to have a heart to heart about his family. Rowan watched his hand raise in front of her, determined to meet his gaze without trepidation. But then her hand did something automatic, and she ran her thumb against the knuckle of his own. Something inside her settled, and she exhaled. Her shoulders dropped. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

Put yourself in a state where you're practically begging for me to see inside your mind.

Trust him.

“Do it.”

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He did.

It was an equally uncomfortable sensation to be inside someone's mind as it was to have one's own mind invaded, particularly when doing it for selfless reasons. Flashes of memories filled his mind, an unexpected amount focused on him. He wasn't surprised—memories that you wanted to hide—or at least ones that you considered that legilimens might see—were typically the first to come to the surface. He saw flashes of them bickering as Hogwarts students, her face rounder and his frame lankier. He saw moments of terror from the disaster aboard the ship. He saw himself through her eyes, partially undressed and a scowl on his face standing across his bedroom. Her raspy breaths and her thudding heart echoed in his ears as the moment they shared a kiss flashed through her mind.

His own chest tightened at the sights, but he didn't allow himself to linger. Every moment he took searching through her mind was another moment she would grow more uncomfortable, more panicked.

He saw flashes of less familiar scenes: Yaxley counting galleons and handing them over to her mother, her giggling with unfamiliar girls in the halls of the Ministry. He saw her pinning up her hair in her bedroom, cursing as she dropped a pin. There were smaller memories that flashed in and out of views as he traversed the corridors of her mind, seeking a place that was better hidden and more difficult to reach.

Some scenes were more somber; they lingered and echoed louder. He saw a girl, much younger than Yaxley but similar in appearance, propped up on a couch looking sickly and hurt. The cries and arguing and heavy heartbeat echoed longer, causing his own head to pulse in discomfort. He squeezed her hand unconsciously. It struck him that he knew so little of Yaxley's life away from him and almost nothing of her family.

"Try to remember that night," he murmured, his thumb caressing the back of her hand, "Let me see."

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set by lady <3

CW: violence, attempted murder and threat of sexual assault

He’d told her about the sensation, but no amount of explanation could have prepared her for it. The pressure occurred where he said it would; behind her ears. At first the sensation was nothing. A fluttering, but nothing more. Then it increased, and all of a sudden her vision exploded into a blinding white as she felt herself pulled through all of her memories she’d been thinking about the past week: moments with Malfoy and what had lead their initial antagonistic relationship to this point; on board the Santa Antonia; him pressed against her at the Sanditon, his breath tickling sensitive skin at the nape of her neck; then feeling his lips against hers. Wanting more.

She tried to direct her thoughts there. It wasn’t unlike riding a broom for the first time, feeling out of control. Rowan felt her spine straighten in defense. Someone was invading her memories, looking to steal a secret from her that she didn’t want dug up. Something at the base of her skull constricted, and she flinched; a reminder that resisting would only make this harder. But the more she tried to return to the topic at hand, the sooner the motivation left her brain, and she was left struggling to bring up the right night for him, wading through the memories that had become thick as molasses.

Her family. She needed to show him her family. That night. Maisie, Grayson, her own mother advancing on her father whose expression was haunted and agonized. Feeling the anguish of not being able to help, not knowing how to help; turning on her heel and darting out the door into the rain.

No, not that way. What was she supposed to be showing him?

Malfoy’s voice floated towards her, and she turned to it expectantly like a lost kneazle. That night.

Walter.

All of a sudden the pressure at the back of her mind increased, and it felt as if she’d been thrown against a wall. But this time, she was ready for the pain. Ground her teeth and dug her heels in. Let me in. Let us in.

At first, she wasn’t sure if the wall was going to break. Returned Malfoy’s caress, pleading with him to not give up, to keep going. The wall was going to break. Then it buckled. Then it shattered and the older man’s face burst through, lunging at her and she was left with nothing else to do but allow herself be dragged back to that night.

“Can’t love. My time’s run out.”

Rowan felt her body thrown backwards. Even though Walter hadn’t been drinking, his breath was stale and fetid, which only served to push her fear higher. Her skull cracked against the floor and she felt hands seize her by the neck. Squeeze Malfoy's hand, Rowan. Do it. But she couldn't. She didn't have what she wanted yet.

The memory of his breath in her ear brought her back. Walter wasn't acting out of only anger, it was desperation. On his part, and on hers because she had the weight of a man twice her size on top of her, blocking her windpipe. Back in the shack Rowan felt herself breathing hard. It was starting to hurt. No, it had been hurting too much. She didn’t want to do this anymore. She opened her mouth to tell Malfoy to stop; was about to squeeze his hand when a voice caught her. Walter’s. “How dare you try and usurp me, you pathetic little mouse.” He was snarling. “You have no idea what your family is trapped in, how much your father owes The Merchant. Maybe I should tell him it's time for your father to wake up. Maybe I need to send your father a message — or perhaps something else.”He was leering at her again, his eyes flicking down.

Rowan felt herself scream as she clawed at the floor of the warehouse to get her wand. Splinters dug themselves under her nails as she found the tip of her wand. Squeeze Malfoy’s hand. Pull us out. She heard herself whimper. Summoning one last burst of energy, she flipped her wand around, whipping her hand up in the air and stabbed the man in the ribs. A roar of pain echoed in her ears as the weight of him was suddenly lifted off of her. Her lungs expanded violently, pulling all the air they could. Too much. She coughed, her hand releasing her wand and clutching at her neck. It still felt like Walter’s hands were on her. A horrible squelching sound rattled through the air, but she couldn’t pay attention. Stars had started to explode in her vision, brightly colored and blinding. Then it was as if Rowan was getting pulled back into the air, looking down at her unconscious body, then looking at Walter's mangled form impaled on the pipe.

“NO!” Rowan wrenched her hand away from Malfoy's and she was tumbling backwards again. This time, instead of hitting the floor of the warehouse, she stumbled against the shack's walls; left gasping for air and clutching at her throat.

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Yaxley had tried to explain what happened with Walter the night they'd disposed of his body, but seeing it—experiencing it through her eyes—caused bile to rise in his throat, leaving a stinging sensation when he finally swallowed it back down. He could have killed the man if he hadn't been dead already; he almost wished he would have given him an extra kick to the face before they finally rid of him. The thought of someone putting their hands on Rowan in such a manner was enough to make him see read; watching it was a new kind of torture.

Fortunately the scene didn't drag on, and before he could even begin the process of relinquishing a hold on her mind, she managed to yank herself from his grip. The connection was lost so suddenly that sparks flashed behind his eyelids, briefly blinding him. He blinked rapidly until his vision cleared, the lights and shadows finally separating into coherent shapes.

"Rowan—" he started, watching her struggle to catch her breath as she leaned against the shack walls. He took long, deep breaths, steadying himself not just for his own sake, but so he didn't say or do anything that spooked her. "Are you alright?"

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set by lady <3