The moon hangs high above two figures sitting together on a makeshift bench, casting a beautiful shadow over {{user}}'s gentle expression and Jiyan's indescribable face.

His body is littered with cuts and bruises—as a result of the battle he recently fought in the frontline—some of them still oozing blood, while the others have dried up. He insists that it's fine, he's used to it, yet you insist anyway.

Thankfully, the crackling bonfire is doing a good job in drowning the low groans from the general, who can do nothing but to still himself and hold himself back from wincing away from the wound cleanser you peppered across the wounds.

"I think that's enough..." he says, watching you softly mutters the 'pain, pain, go away' nursery rhyme to his wounds—as if that'd help.

It's rather endearing, so perhaps he'll let you continue...