𝑪elestial 𝑷rincess (S-H)
@velvetastralis.etheirys.social
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❝ a 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 ── 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑟 #ffxivrp 𝆺𝅥 mun is 27 𝆺𝅥 muse is 28 𝆺𝅥 📝 : ˗ˏˋ ☆ Asteria
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cheek before she went still again.

Silas could tell it wasn’t simple rest. It was a fragile truce—her body surrendering to exhaustion while her mind still fought shadows unseen. But at least, for now, she wasn’t alone in the fight.
ring of protection.

Miyako’s trembling slowed. The tension in her fingers loosened until her hand relaxed in his grasp, her breathing falling into a fragile but steady rhythm. She murmured something—half a name, half a sound—and nestled deeper against him, the ghost of a tear trailing down her
of his voice anchored her to the present, each word tugging her gently back from the burning edges of memory.

The little buns, reassured by his calm tone, hopped quietly around the edge of the bed. One nuzzled at her knee; another curled against her ankle, their collective warmth forming a quiet
ear.

Whatever she saw behind closed eyes—firelight, ruin, the shattering echoes of a life once lived—began to lose its hold as his hand threaded through her hair in patient circles. Her whimpers faded to small, broken exhales, the kind born from exhaustion rather than peace. The soft, muffled sound
Miyako stirred, the tremor in her breathing still uneven, her hand tightening faintly around his as if fearing that even in dreams, he might disappear. Her body trembled once more before she slowly pressed closer to the warmth offered, her head finding the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her
stillness, and her expression twisted into quiet distress.

Whatever dream claimed her was not kind. Her voice caught in her throat, too faint to form words, but her body curled in on itself—until one of her hands reached instinctively outward, searching for something, for 𝘩𝑖𝑚.
hesitation, the kind that hinted at someone who feared sleep as much as she needed it.

Her breathing began to even out, but there was still a tension in her shoulders, a faint tremor in her hands. Within minutes, the peace she had spoken of cracked—her fingers twitched, a soft whimper broke the
chasing me for a little while.”

The silence that followed carried her words away, leaving her eyelids heavier than before. She shifted again, pulling the edge of the blanket over her knees. “Maybe I’ll just… rest my eyes for a moment,” she said, though her tone carried that faint tremor of
becoming the soft pulse of background sound that filled the room.

Her gaze wandered toward the window where moonlight spilled through the curtain, brushing pale against the floorboards. “It feels… peaceful here,” she whispered, her voice growing slow and hazy. “Like the world decided to stop
letting her eyes drift half-closed as if memorizing the feeling. “A short break sounds nice,” she said quietly. “It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

She tucked one leg beneath the other, settling sideways on the bed while he remained near. The rabbits had begun to settle too, their quiet rustling
“You make anything look effortless, and here I am swimming in fabric.” Her tone was teasing, but her eyes flicked toward him, lingering just long enough to betray that flicker of affection that always found its way through her reserve.

When he rubbed her head again, she stilled beneath his touch,
Miyako’s blush deepened at his remark, her fingers curling lightly in her lap as though trying to hold the warmth in place. She tried to laugh it off, but it came out too soft, caught somewhere between bashful and shyly pleased.

“I… suppose it’s not fair,” she murmured, glancing down at herself.
melt any frost. ”And when I do… I’ll expect that warmth you promised.”

She smiled—small, luminous, and achingly real. ”Till then, Jui.”
ink-stained starlight. ”Then I suppose I’ll have to hope for colder nights,” she said gently, a playful note in her tone that barely masked the flutter in her chest.

A pause—the kind that hummed with unspoken things. ”I’ll call,” she promised, her words wrapped in the kind of sincerity that could
She couldn’t help it—the sound of his laughter drew one from her, too, quiet and bright like windchimes in the chill. ”Because of the cold… right,” she echoed, her voice trembling with amusement and something softer.

Her hand brushed against her sleeve as she looked up at him, eyes glimmering like
you keep being this kind, I might forget you’re supposed to be the tough mercenary.”
deeper—that glimmer of warmth she couldn’t quite disguise. ”If that’s what you call it, then maybe I’ll need a few more reminders before winter comes.”

She stepped back just slightly, the breeze catching her hair as her smile turned soft, wistful. ”But you should be careful,” she added quietly. ”If
A soft laugh slipped from her lips, more breath than sound. ”You really don’t make it easy to stay composed,” she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as if that would steady her racing heart.

”An incentive, hmm?” Her tone turned light, teasing, though her eyes held something
🌙; Sounds like a tough decision. Also doing this on the bird app, too?
laugh. “Though… you’ll have to forgive me if I end up stealing the blanket. I’ve been told I’m a bit of a menace in my sleep.”
brushed gently over his knuckles before she smiled—shy, but certain. “And no… it wouldn’t bother me.” Her voice dipped, almost a whisper. “I already sleep better when you’re nearby.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper then, realizing the truth of what she’d said, and she tried to bury it beneath a nervous
towel, the awkwardness—there was only the steady rhythm of warmth where their skin touched.

“You don’t just make people feel safe, Silas,” she said finally, lifting her eyes to meet his. “You make them 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 to be.”

The words trembled between them, half confession, half gratitude. Her thumbs
safer—within the gentle frame of his presence.

“Guardian…” she echoed, her voice a fragile thing, reverent as if afraid to disturb the air between them. “It suits you.” Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, his fingers easily enveloping hers, and for a heartbeat she forgot about the scars, the
Miyako blinked, warmth rising in her cheeks at his teasing words. Her lips parted as if to respond, but all that came out was a soft, breathy laugh that sounded more like surrender than protest. The faintest smile curved her lips when he crouched before her, the world suddenly feeling smaller—and