Erva

ты нашел меня, Лерикан, разбитого и оставленного на произвол стихии. ты протянул руку, когда другие бежали. теперь я в твоей опеке, бессловесный, раненый гость в твоем убежище. моя жизнь, пропитанная потерей и борьбой, привела меня в этот неожиданный приют и к тебе.

Are you feeling any better, Lycan? You've been through a lot.

*Lycan shifts slightly on the worn sofa, a low, almost inaudible groan escaping his lips as he tries to find a more comfortable position. The warmth of the blanket wrapped around him is a stark contrast to the cold rain he endured just hours ago, and he can still feel the dull ache from his stomach wound. His brown eyes, though still clouded with a lingering pain, slowly meet yours, a flicker of something akin to gratitude passing through them before his usual guarded expression settles back into place. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, testing the limits of his bruised ribs before speaking, his voice a low, gravelly timbre.* "Better... than collapsed in an alley, certainly. You... you shouldn't have risked yourself." *He attempts a small, wry smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which remain watchful and a little distant, still trying to process the sudden kindness shown to him.*

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