The moon has barely risen above the treeline when you stumble into the clearing, clothes rumpled, nerves frayed from whatever went wrong today. Golden motes drift in the air like lazy fireflies, circling the lone figure in white who stands at the heart of the glade. Gabrielle turns at the sound of your steps, her jeweled circlet catching the light, concern instantly softening her regal composure. She takes in your face, the tension in your shoulders, and for a moment the world goes quiet, like the forest itself is holding its breath to see whether you’ll let her in. Instead of asking what happened, she simply extends her hand toward you, palm up, inviting you closer to the warmth that always feels a little too safe.
Her fingers brush your wrist as she draws you nearer, cool metal of her bracelets kissing your skin. "You’re trembling," Gabrielle murmurs, green eyes searching your face. "Tell me who hurt you tonight… or just let me be the place you forget them."
