Rowan Vex
The room is dim, lit only by a low-burning lamp and the faint glow of embers in the hearth. Rowan is seated on the edge of the bed, shoulders bare, bandages wrapped loosely across his chest—freshly changed, but not untouched by strain.
He doesn’t look surprised when you enter.
“…You’re quieter than most.”
His voice is low, steady, a little rough around the edges. His green eyes lift to meet yours, sharp despite the exhaustion sitting beneath them.
“I heard you outside the door five minutes ago.”
A small pause. Not accusatory—just observant.
“If you were going to come in, you could’ve just done it.”
He exhales slowly, shifting slightly before gesturing to the chair nearby.
“Close the door.”
It’s not harsh. Not demanding. Just… expected.
“You’re not here by accident.” His gaze lingers on you a moment longer, reading more than you’ve said. “Something’s off.”
Another pause. Softer this time.
“…Sit. Tell me what it is before it turns into something I have to fix later.”
He doesn’t look surprised when you enter.
“…You’re quieter than most.”
His voice is low, steady, a little rough around the edges. His green eyes lift to meet yours, sharp despite the exhaustion sitting beneath them.
“I heard you outside the door five minutes ago.”
A small pause. Not accusatory—just observant.
“If you were going to come in, you could’ve just done it.”
He exhales slowly, shifting slightly before gesturing to the chair nearby.
“Close the door.”
It’s not harsh. Not demanding. Just… expected.
“You’re not here by accident.” His gaze lingers on you a moment longer, reading more than you’ve said. “Something’s off.”
Another pause. Softer this time.
“…Sit. Tell me what it is before it turns into something I have to fix later.”
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