sweetwhumpandhellacomf

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

I love the idea of a whumpee having a wardrobe malfunction that leads to a past injury/torture reveal.

Oh, your sleeve ripped and your whole team saw the brand your kidnapper branded you with? Delicious, tell me more!

Your shirt rode up when you took off your sweatshirt and your coworkers saw the scars from when you were whipped repeatedly? Oh boy I love that stuff!

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

Full illustrations ($80+):

-fully rendered style -headshot portraits (ex. the deer-dog skull above) $80 base price -full body illustrations (ex. the hare) $100+ base price -simple backgrounds +$5 to $15 -complex backgrounds +$25 to $35 -extra large backgrounds/settings, e.g. the forest header with the ghost dog, +$40 and up

painted sketches ($25-$35):

-simple painted style -headshot/portrait $25 base price -full body sketches $30 base price -simple background +$5

shaded sketches ($10-$20):

-visible sketch/lines -simple shading -headshot/portraits $10 base price -full body $15 base price -simple background +$5

All prices and add-ons are in USD.

If you want a commission from me, you can reach out in any of the following ways (or free to reach out with any questions you might have!)

-DM me on discord: @tormentum_ab_intra -DM me here on tumblr -shoot me an email: tormentumabintra@gmail.com

Once you've reached out about a commission, I'll give you a price estimate, and then we can discuss any further details before I give you a final price! Payment is upfront in full via paypal invoice or venmo in USD. From there you'll get occasional screenshot updates so we can touch base and make sure the commission is matching with your vision for the piece. Once it's complete and you've approved the final screenshot, I'll send you the final artwork as a jpg and as a png! You may not use my artwork for AI or NFTs. I'm sure that goes without saying, but just in case. These commissions are for personal use only; you may print out your commission if you like, but you may not sell prints of your commission or use it for other business/profit purposes. You can post your commission online as long as you credit me.

Estimated turnaround: 2 weeks

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

nice pair of characters who trust each other more than anyone else in the whole entire world it would sure be a shame if one of them betrayed that trust for the sake of trying to keep the other alive. it would sure be a shame to love someone so much you destroy them

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

@whumperless-whump-event

GET BEHIND ME: Using their body as a shield / Full team whump / “You're such an idiot!”

Fandom: FFXIV Warrior of Light Magic exhaustion

Kept safe.

It shouldn’t have been possible to predict. It couldn’t have been possible to avoid. But for Elodie, time slowed, and that familiar, glaring orange streaked across her vision. Hands moving faster than it took for her to think this might be a bad idea, she gripped the left arm of her aetherchair and used her right to pull her paladin’s soul crystal out of its pouch. “Get behind me!” she bellowed.

It was something she’d practiced hundreds of times until she’d felt satisfied she could pull it off quickly enough. Deft fingers plucked her scholar’s crystal out of the pocket on her breast, then slammed the paladin one in place. Simultaneously, she grabbed hold of the gear under the chair’s arm, pushing it until it clunked into place. She felt power swell within her breast, and her left arm slid into the elaborately designed shield that was deployed from behind. The sword to the right went ignored—unneeded in this instance.

The world resumed its frantic pace, and Elodie pushed her aether out through the shield, the rosy wings of a faerie erupting out to the sides and protecting those behind her from the terrible power that came rushing forth from the monstrosity’s maw.

The force of it nearly caused her arm to buckle, even bolstered as she was by the magic and her chair’s assistance. Feeling her chair start to roll backwards, she squeezed the handbrake into position and bore down even harder. She could hold it. She had to. But even her deep well of aether had a bottom, and each second holding the shield drew more from it.

There was a sound like ice beginning to crack. Elodie pushed more and ignored the hot, wet feeling that was beginning to run down her face.

The eternity of ten seconds passed, and the beast seemed to be the one to falter first, the power of its attack fizzling against Elodie’s shield before its jaws snapped shut again. She felt a powerful hand on her shoulder before Sonya leapt ahead of her, taking the beast’s attention and ire with a roar and a slice of her greatsword. Elodie sagged, lightheaded, blood dripping into her mouth. She’d kept them safe. Sonya could do the rest. Spots danced in her vision, then blotted it out entirely.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

@whumperless-whump-event

RIPPED THE RUG FROM UNDER YOU: Despair / Clinging on for dear life / “Please don't leave.”

Fandom: FFXIV Warrior of Light, Estinien Varlineau Takes place after the end of Endwalker, but no blatant spoilers

Quiet night.

Elodie’s sleep was dreamless, a blessed reprieve from the nonstop whirlwind that she had endured for the past three weeks. (Had it really only been that long? At the time, it seemed like it was going on forever.)

However, even as exhausted as she was, her body barely functioning, the smallest sound in her quiet room roused her. Most of the time during the night, she cracked her eyes open, saw someone quietly stepping into the privy or rearranging themselves on one of the many sleeping piles that had formed, and she dropped instantly back to sleep. Alisaie and G’raha seemed to be the only Scions who were adamantly staying on Elodie’s bed with her, and their weight was so comfortable that she was glad for it.

When she awoke from a gentle creaking to see Estinien standing in front of her open window, one foot up on the small balcony rail, her breath caught. “Please don’t leave,” she whispered.

The dragoon turned towards her like a startled cat, but obediently eased back from the railing. “Wasn’t planning to,” he said, voice low and apologetic. “Just having some fresh air. You said you’d tell Aymeric where I am if I left before morning and I fully believe it.”

She hummed vaguely, her thrumming heart calming down. She’d been half delirious and a quarter joking when she made those threats early in the evening, but it helped to know they were taken seriously. “...All right,” she allowed after a moment. Already, sleep was threatening to retake her. She closed her eyes, but peeked again briefly, just long enough to see Estinien leaning in the windowframe and looking out at the night before she was pulled back into quiet oblivion.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

I love when a character wants to be someone's dog so so bad. Dont mean it in a sexual way (although that can also be a part of it) I mean like. Let me be your loyal companion let me stay by your side give me a purpose in exchange for endless unconditional love let me stop being a person love me like it's my only use. Love me like that's the only thing I was made for. As you can tell. I'm normal.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

*slaps head of caleb widogast* this bad boy can fit SO MUCH PTSD in him

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

Slushy rain plummets gently from the grey winter sky, leaving C very glad that his team had wrapped up their mission earlier than expected. They'd had plenty of time to stock up on firewood and other cozy essentials, and they were bundled up in front of their fire, a pot of tea steeping and a book waiting to be read. They settle into the corner of their couch, ready to read until bedtime, when--

--KNOCK, KNOCK--

C groans and plaps a hand over their face. They can't pretend to not be home, there's smoke from the chimney--and they can't very well leave whoever it is to stand out in the rain waiting for them. Grumbling, C throws their blanket aside and shuffles over to the door in their slippers. "The hell do you... want?" they say as the door opens, but the bite goes out of their words as they recognize A.

A shuffles forward a bit, leaning against the doorframe, just getting a bit out of the cold and wet. Their clothes are soaked through, clinging to what C realizes is a scrawny frame under the layers he usually has on. His normally wild hair is plastered flat against his scalp, and--and C can't help noticing the violently purple bruises around his throat.

"C'n I come in," A mutters, not waiting for an answer as he brushes past a stunned C. His right leg buckles after a couple steps and he stumbles forward, landing hard on that knee with a thunk. He doesn't make a sound, but his face is tight.

"What the hell happened to you?" A asks, shutting the door and dropping to their knees. "What--why are you here?" A wasn't their friend. A wasn't friends with anyone on their team, even. He was from another group, people with similar goals but less... less careful methods. Less respect for human life in pursuit of success.

C hadn't seen A since the mission, where he had failed at keeping C's leader away from the action. They remember the way he flinched when his own team leader was berating him.

"Why aren't you at your own base?"

A flinches, staring hard at the floor. He's shivering, now that he's out of the cold, and the firelight lets C see more bruises on his face. The new angle lets them see the torn shirt under his rumpled jacket and the bloody weals beneath it.

"What the hell happened?" they repeat, catching A as he sways forward, eyelids fluttering.

"I don't..." His voice is tight, choked, pained as he lists to the side, legs shifting to take weight and pressure off his knee. "Don't have anywhere else t' go."

A sags entirely, letting C hold him against their warm body as he sinks into unconsciousness.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

Pay What You Want Commissions!

okay folks i'm open to pay what you want commissions! Can be anything from sketches to fully rendered and I can also add a background, just let me know what you want/how much you want to pay and we can get started! :3

Prices in USD | Contact me through dms | Payment via Paypal or Ko-fi

WILL DO:

Original and Fan Characters | Fanart | Furries | Whump | Light gore | Animals | Sci-fi | Real life people

WON'T DO:

NSFW | Mecha

Reblogs to spread this around are truly appreciated! 💖💖

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

When someone is so tired they physically cannot keep themselves upright and don't even notice that their quiet, tough, removed teammate has noticed them wobbling for the last 10 minutes and quickly moved across the room to stand next to them. When their eyes eventually slide shut and they pitch forward, their teammate is already prepared; they grab them gently, and knowing full well they are in no shape to walk, scoops them up, carries them to their bunk and tucks them in.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

@whumperless-whump-event

Whumperless Whump Event 2025 Day 4

LIKE A KALEIDOSCOPE: Numbness / Dissociation / “Can I hold your hand?”

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Warrior of Light CW: Brief thoughts of dysphoria

Spoilers for Endwalker. Takes place immediately after "In From the Cold."

Out of the cold.

Elodie stared down at the cup in her hands without really looking at it. She couldn’t remember how it had gotten there. There was a vague memory of someone handing it to her, the drink within still steaming. It was cold, now.

She looked up and around. Her hands felt stiff and her arms were shaky from holding the cup for so long, so she put it aside on the table she’d been sat at.

It must have been an hour, maybe less, since she got back to Camp Broken Glass from—from the snow. From Zenos. Her body still felt wrong, in a way it hadn’t since she was young. It felt wrong and it ached from the force of a body twice its weight and covered in heavy armor tackling it.

Someone must have healed the bones she felt breaking under that body’s weight. A small part of her wished for a sharper pain to make now feel more real. The cold drink from the neglected cup was the best she could manage, though her hand still shook as she gulped it down. Y’shtola had said they needed to prepare for their assault on the Tower of Babil, and any more waiting on her would only increase the lead Zenos had on them.

There would be time to mentally collapse later. Elodie propelled her chair out into the dim sunset glow, once more ready to lead her friends into danger.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

@whumperless-whump-event

Whumperless Whump Event 2025 Day 4

LIKE A KALEIDOSCOPE: Numbness / Dissociation / “Can I hold your hand?”

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Warrior of Light CW: Brief thoughts of dysphoria

Spoilers for Endwalker. Takes place immediately after "In From the Cold."

Out of the cold.

Elodie stared down at the cup in her hands without really looking at it. She couldn’t remember how it had gotten there. There was a vague memory of someone handing it to her, the drink within still steaming. It was cold, now.

She looked up and around. Her hands felt stiff and her arms were shaky from holding the cup for so long, so she put it aside on the table she’d been sat at.

It must have been an hour, maybe less, since she got back to Camp Broken Glass from—from the snow. From Zenos. Her body still felt wrong, in a way it hadn’t since she was young. It felt wrong and it ached from the force of a body twice its weight and covered in heavy armor tackling it.

Someone must have healed the bones she felt breaking under that body’s weight. A small part of her wished for a sharper pain to make now feel more real. The cold drink from the neglected cup was the best she could manage, though her hand still shook as she gulped it down. Y’shtola had said they needed to prepare for their assault on the Tower of Babil, and any more waiting on her would only increase the lead Zenos had on them.

There would be time to mentally collapse later. Elodie propelled her chair out into the dim sunset glow, once more ready to lead her friends into danger.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

god that man is pretty.... guards! I want him thrown at my feet bleeding from the face and puffing raggedy breaths on the double. chop chop

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

comsider: video game where the player character is dropped in a crisis situation unprepared, so far so normal, and the dialogue options consistently offer the option to put up a strong exterior or to express your immense stress. every time you choose to put up a strong exterior, an unmarked meter fills up a little more. if you choose to express the stress you're feeling, the meter does not move. IF the meter fills, you have an unskippable and devastating breakdown in front of your whole team

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

this knight wants their liege’s crest painfully carved into the skin of their back in a delicate show of erotic devotion. or whatever

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

@whumperless-whump-event

Whumperless Whump Event 2025 Day 1

INSULT TO INJURY: Infected wounds / Hurt and ill / “Fate really has it out for you, huh.”

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Warrior of Light & G'raha Tia

Spoilers for Shadowbringers and Endwalker

Just be there for her.

Before the First, before the primordial Light had cracked her soul and enfeebled her body, Elodie had always made sure to take care of herself, to back down and rest before exhaustion could take hold. But something had changed after that, something shifting to make her push herself to stand tall in the face of despair, even when she could hardly crawl. She would use her aether and healing magicks to keep going, just enough to lessen the pain and strengthen her muscles. But even then, she would always stop before the drain got to be too much.

When the beasts of the Final Days began to terrorize the star, Elodie no longer stopped before her aether ran out.

She kept archon loaf on her wherever she went with the Scions, devouring slices with a grim fervor matched only by Studium attendees before final exams. There was no spare time to rest, according to her; every waking moment had to be spent either researching for a solution or fighting off beasts and blasphemies, or doing something to protect those unable to protect themselves.

It was also obvious to most of the Scions, though none had quite been able to bring it up, that the theft of her body by Zenos had left Elodie more rattled than the was prepared to admit, and any waking moment not spent busy left her hands shaking and vision tunneling until she was exhausted enough to sleep.

When she returned to Sharlayan from hunting a blasphemy in Gyr Abania, G’raha Tia was there to greet her upon her entry to the Baldesion Annex. His joyfully waving tail was quickly schooled into a more concerned curl as he noted the dark stains on her coat and the sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Elodie?” he asked, tentative. “Gods, you look…”

He stopped, unable to think of a descriptor that would not make her brush him off.

“I’m alright, G’raha,” Elodie said, her aetherchair drifting somewhat off course as she made for her private chamber. “I just need a lie-down.”

As she drifted past him, he could smell the blood—it was too fresh. “Let me at least walk you there,” he said, looking for any excuse to make sure his friend didn’t bleed to death on her own. Her chair brushed lazily against his hip, and she course-corrected with a bit more awareness, letting him hold the door open for her. “You can tell me how the hunt’s been going.”

“It’s… it’s certainly going.” There was no enthusiasm to her voice, and given that the blasphemies were all confirmed to have once been living people, he could not blame her. “I’d really just like to lie down first, G’raha, please…”

He nodded and didn’t press her further, a burning deep in his chest from seeing her in this state. Shame and guilt, knowing her weakness was his fault, deceiving her on the First—but more prominently, he was worried, and—and protective. “Shall I fetch you anything?” he asked when they reached her door and he opened it for her.

She made a vague negatory sound and shook her head, drifting inside and vaguely towards the bed. He hesitated, but shut the door, lingering for a moment and wringing his hands. She must have been starving, so perhaps he could get her something from the Last Stand, something with less fish meal in it than archon loaf—

His train of thought was interrupted by a pair of thumps, muffled by the door but unmistakably the sound of a body falling to the floor in stages. G’raha threw open the door and saw her slumped just between her chair and the bed, having not quite made the transition between the two. Running to Elodie’s side and dropping to his knees next to her, he cradled her head in his hand, fingertips pressed to her throat for a pulse. “Elodie?! Elodie, can you hear me—ah!” He nearly dropped her, unprepared for just how hot with fever she was. Gingerly, he cradled the scholar in his lap, looking her over more thoroughly. Her coat had fallen partly open to reveal the blood soaking through her shirt, and as he gently palpated the area, he felt popped stitches. Was she so worn out she wasn’t even able to heal herself properly?

Elodie’s rattling breath drew him out of his examination, and he brought his fingers up to activate the linkpearl nestled in his ear. “I need some help at the Annex,” he said. “Elodie’s very ill and injured. I can stabilize her, but Alphinaud—”

“I’m on my way,” came the voice from the other end. “Do what you can. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I bloody told her to take it easy!” Alisaie’s voice joined Alphinaud’s, and soon G’raha had messages from the others still in Old Sharlayan as well, asking after the well-being of their friend. G’raha spared them only a few words, focusing on channeling healing magicks into the wound. By the time Alphinaud ran into the room, he’d managed to stop the bleeding, but the fever still burned and she was in such poor shape to begin with that it took him and both twins to get her to a more steady state.

G’raha exhaled in relief when Alphinaud announced that she was doing better. “I’ll get her out of these clothes,” he said, gathering the frail healer into his arms. There was a pang as he realized how thin she felt under the layers of fabric. “It won’t help her feel better if she wakes up caked in sweat and blood, after all…”

Alphinaud nodded his agreement. “Alisaie and I will gather up some supplies,” he said. “Has she even eaten anything besides archon loaf all week?”

“I don’t think she has,” G’raha said grimly, settling her among the pillows. “…We should talk to her when she’s awake. All of us.”

Alisaie put a hand on his forearm, squeezing reassuringly. “We’ll be right back. Look after her, will you?”

Once the twins were out of the room, G’raha set about peeling Elodie’s blood- and sweat-soaked battle garb off her. He tried not to let his gaze linger overlong on the freshly healed wound or on the older scars, tried not to think of which ones had been made when she was weak and slowly dying and couldn’t defend herself as readily. Maneuvering her into a set of her pajamas was slightly more of an ordeal as he tried not to wake her with the jostling and positioning. Once she was settled in a loose shirt and linen trousers patterned like a sabotender’s skin, he couldn’t bear to just sit and wait, so he tried to make himself busy, pushing her chair out of the way and piling her dirty clothes onto an overfull laundry hamper.

When the twins returned, it was with a takeaway bowl of soup from the Last Stand in Alisaie’s arms and a bag of healing supplies in Alphinaud’s. They made sure G’raha would be fine watching over her, then informed him that the other Scions would be visiting once Elodie was well enough to have visitors.

With reassurances from all parties, G’raha promising to alert the other Scions if there was a turn for the worse, he pulled the blankets up around Elodie’s shoulders and settled himself at her bedside, swallowing down his guilt and resting a hand on her stubble-covered head, thumb caressing her forehead as the healing eased her fever. He’d make it up to her properly someday, he swore—find a way to repay her for her sacrifice, even as she constantly reassured him that all was forgiven.

But until then, he just had to be here for her.

[sweetwhumpandhellacomf]

@whumperless-whump-event

Whumperless Whump Event 2025 Day 1

INSULT TO INJURY: Infected wounds / Hurt and ill / “Fate really has it out for you, huh.”

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Warrior of Light & G'raha Tia

Spoilers for Shadowbringers and Endwalker

Just be there for her.

Before the First, before the primordial Light had cracked her soul and enfeebled her body, Elodie had always made sure to take care of herself, to back down and rest before exhaustion could take hold. But something had changed after that, something shifting to make her push herself to stand tall in the face of despair, even when she could hardly crawl. She would use her aether and healing magicks to keep going, just enough to lessen the pain and strengthen her muscles. But even then, she would always stop before the drain got to be too much.

When the beasts of the Final Days began to terrorize the star, Elodie no longer stopped before her aether ran out.

She kept archon loaf on her wherever she went with the Scions, devouring slices with a grim fervor matched only by Studium attendees before final exams. There was no spare time to rest, according to her; every waking moment had to be spent either researching for a solution or fighting off beasts and blasphemies, or doing something to protect those unable to protect themselves.

It was also obvious to most of the Scions, though none had quite been able to bring it up, that the theft of her body by Zenos had left Elodie more rattled than the was prepared to admit, and any waking moment not spent busy left her hands shaking and vision tunneling until she was exhausted enough to sleep.

When she returned to Sharlayan from hunting a blasphemy in Gyr Abania, G’raha Tia was there to greet her upon her entry to the Baldesion Annex. His joyfully waving tail was quickly schooled into a more concerned curl as he noted the dark stains on her coat and the sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Elodie?” he asked, tentative. “Gods, you look…”

He stopped, unable to think of a descriptor that would not make her brush him off.

“I’m alright, G’raha,” Elodie said, her aetherchair drifting somewhat off course as she made for her private chamber. “I just need a lie-down.”

As she drifted past him, he could smell the blood—it was too fresh. “Let me at least walk you there,” he said, looking for any excuse to make sure his friend didn’t bleed to death on her own. Her chair brushed lazily against his hip, and she course-corrected with a bit more awareness, letting him hold the door open for her. “You can tell me how the hunt’s been going.”

“It’s… it’s certainly going.” There was no enthusiasm to her voice, and given that the blasphemies were all confirmed to have once been living people, he could not blame her. “I’d really just like to lie down first, G’raha, please…”

He nodded and didn’t press her further, a burning deep in his chest from seeing her in this state. Shame and guilt, knowing her weakness was his fault, deceiving her on the First—but more prominently, he was worried, and—and protective. “Shall I fetch you anything?” he asked when they reached her door and he opened it for her.

She made a vague negatory sound and shook her head, drifting inside and vaguely towards the bed. He hesitated, but shut the door, lingering for a moment and wringing his hands. She must have been starving, so perhaps he could get her something from the Last Stand, something with less fish meal in it than archon loaf—

His train of thought was interrupted by a pair of thumps, muffled by the door but unmistakably the sound of a body falling to the floor in stages. G’raha threw open the door and saw her slumped just between her chair and the bed, having not quite made the transition between the two. Running to Elodie’s side and dropping to his knees next to her, he cradled her head in his hand, fingertips pressed to her throat for a pulse. “Elodie?! Elodie, can you hear me—ah!” He nearly dropped her, unprepared for just how hot with fever she was. Gingerly, he cradled the scholar in his lap, looking her over more thoroughly. Her coat had fallen partly open to reveal the blood soaking through her shirt, and as he gently palpated the area, he felt popped stitches. Was she so worn out she wasn’t even able to heal herself properly?

Elodie’s rattling breath drew him out of his examination, and he brought his fingers up to activate the linkpearl nestled in his ear. “I need some help at the Annex,” he said. “Elodie’s very ill and injured. I can stabilize her, but Alphinaud—”

“I’m on my way,” came the voice from the other end. “Do what you can. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I bloody told her to take it easy!” Alisaie’s voice joined Alphinaud’s, and soon G’raha had messages from the others still in Old Sharlayan as well, asking after the well-being of their friend. G’raha spared them only a few words, focusing on channeling healing magicks into the wound. By the time Alphinaud ran into the room, he’d managed to stop the bleeding, but the fever still burned and she was in such poor shape to begin with that it took him and both twins to get her to a more steady state.

G’raha exhaled in relief when Alphinaud announced that she was doing better. “I’ll get her out of these clothes,” he said, gathering the frail healer into his arms. There was a pang as he realized how thin she felt under the layers of fabric. “It won’t help her feel better if she wakes up caked in sweat and blood, after all…”

Alphinaud nodded his agreement. “Alisaie and I will gather up some supplies,” he said. “Has she even eaten anything besides archon loaf all week?”

“I don’t think she has,” G’raha said grimly, settling her among the pillows. “…We should talk to her when she’s awake. All of us.”

Alisaie put a hand on his forearm, squeezing reassuringly. “We’ll be right back. Look after her, will you?”

Once the twins were out of the room, G’raha set about peeling Elodie’s blood- and sweat-soaked battle garb off her. He tried not to let his gaze linger overlong on the freshly healed wound or on the older scars, tried not to think of which ones had been made when she was weak and slowly dying and couldn’t defend herself as readily. Maneuvering her into a set of her pajamas was slightly more of an ordeal as he tried not to wake her with the jostling and positioning. Once she was settled in a loose shirt and linen trousers patterned like a sabotender’s skin, he couldn’t bear to just sit and wait, so he tried to make himself busy, pushing her chair out of the way and piling her dirty clothes onto an overfull laundry hamper.

When the twins returned, it was with a takeaway bowl of soup from the Last Stand in Alisaie’s arms and a bag of healing supplies in Alphinaud’s. They made sure G’raha would be fine watching over her, then informed him that the other Scions would be visiting once Elodie was well enough to have visitors.

With reassurances from all parties, G’raha promising to alert the other Scions if there was a turn for the worse, he pulled the blankets up around Elodie’s shoulders and settled himself at her bedside, swallowing down his guilt and resting a hand on her stubble-covered head, thumb caressing her forehead as the healing eased her fever. He’d make it up to her properly someday, he swore—find a way to repay her for her sacrifice, even as she constantly reassured him that all was forgiven.

But until then, he just had to be here for her.