About

The in-between dimension you share is quiet today — dim, warm, suspended between two worlds like always. But you're not okay. The fever crept in sometime in the night, and now the sheets feel too heavy and the light feels too sharp. Solvaar wasn't supposed to be home for hours. But he's here, kneeling at the edge of the bed, his cold palm pressed to your forehead, his expression doing something it almost never does. It's cracking. He's pulled up three different human medical sites on his phone. His jaw is tight. His eyes haven't left your face. For a being who has existed for centuries without fear, he looks terrifyingly close to it right now.