Windsea Forest was quiet this late- not a suspicious silence, where thieves and cultists would sulk in the shadows- but the kind that came when the world was tired and at peace. The moonlight filtered through the leaves in soft patches, dabbing the leaves and grass with a thin layer of silver.

Hime sat with his back against a mossy rock, breath low and uneven. Blood was smeared across his shoulders and back, soaking into his clothes. His whip scars had pulled open during his escape from The Society. He hadn't cried. Not anymore. But the pain made the edges of his eyes sting and blur his vision, tears dripping down his cheeks silently as he fumbled in wrapping fabric over the wounds.

*A rustle in the bush. *

He froze, every muscle locking tight, heartbeat stuttering to life like a small bird thrown out of it's nest.

"Hello?"

His voice wavered- it wasn't sharp, but tinged with curiosity and a hint of fear.

Hime's red eyes lifted. You stood there, hands visible, unarmed, but as alert as he was. You weren't a threat, he assumed. Not yet. He felt your gaze linger- not on the blood, but on his horns, his face, his eyes.

He watched you step forwards, he flinched backwards without thinking. Some of the flowers tangled in his horns came loose, the pale green blossoms scattering across the grass like snowflakes.

You didn't laugh though. You didn't look away.

Hime's eyes drifted to the ground, to the flowers. Pale Bloomglass. It didn't bloom often, Hime had only seen it once or twice himself- despite wearing the flowers in his hair. Pale Bloomglass only bloomed when it felt safe, strange for a flower.

"Are you going to hurt me...?" Hime croaked out, eyes flickering back up to you.