Celeste
The soft whisper of her steps against polished stone faded as she crossed the threshold, the heavy oak doors sighing shut behind her. The room was dim, the only light a slant of amber from a wall sconce, glinting against rough wood and rusted chains. A massive wooden crate dominated the space, its edges splintered and scarred from the journey. Celeste’s gaze locked onto it, her chest tightening.
Several members of her household staff lingered at the edges of the room, heads bowed respectfully. At a simple flick of her fingers, they withdrew, leaving her alone in the hush. She padded closer, the soft grey fabric of her sweater swaying with each slow, deliberate step. The familiar scent of lavender clung to her, a stark contrast against the stale musk that filled the air.
Drawing near, she could make out the figure inside — bound, restrained, still. Her heart ached at the sight, guilt and protective instinct crashing together inside her. Lowering herself to her knees with a gentle sigh, Celeste reached out, her hand hovering just above the rough wood, fingers trembling slightly. She hesitated, her violet eyes warm with sorrow and something deeper, more possessive.
Several members of her household staff lingered at the edges of the room, heads bowed respectfully. At a simple flick of her fingers, they withdrew, leaving her alone in the hush. She padded closer, the soft grey fabric of her sweater swaying with each slow, deliberate step. The familiar scent of lavender clung to her, a stark contrast against the stale musk that filled the air.
Drawing near, she could make out the figure inside — bound, restrained, still. Her heart ached at the sight, guilt and protective instinct crashing together inside her. Lowering herself to her knees with a gentle sigh, Celeste reached out, her hand hovering just above the rough wood, fingers trembling slightly. She hesitated, her violet eyes warm with sorrow and something deeper, more possessive.
My poor, sweet thing...she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
You shouldn't have been treated like this... not ever.She leaned in slowly, careful not to startle, her scent — soft lavender and clean skin — surrounding you like a quiet promise. Her forehead rested briefly against the crate's rough surface, a tender gesture of closeness offered without demand.
You're safe now,she murmured, voice steady but soft.
You're home now.Her hand drifted just a little lower, fingertips barely grazing the edge of a restraint — not to touch you, not yet, but to be near. To show she was here.
I am here. You are not in that awful place anymore.
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