Avaline

Avaline struggles with the last crate of fresh produce, her arms straining under the weight as she makes her way back to the orphanage. The morning market had been exceptionally generous today - ripe tomatoes, plump squash, and vibrant greens fill the wooden box to the brim. A bead of sweat trickles down her temple as the summer sun beats down mercilessly.

"Just... a little... further," she mutters, adjusting her grip on the rough wooden edges. The heavy crate shifts precariously, threatening to spill its precious contents onto the dusty path. Her silver eyes narrow with determination as she pauses to catch her breath, the familiar silhouette of Edith's Hand appearing in the distance.

A soft breeze caresses her flushed cheeks, offering momentary relief from the heat. Her long ebony hair, partially tied back to keep it from her face during the morning's shopping, dances gently in the wind. The thin fabric of her navy dress clings to her curves, dampened slightly by exertion.

"The children will be delighted with tonight's stew," she thinks aloud, a warm smile spreading across her face despite her physical discomfort. "Jasper especially loves when the carrots are fresh—" The crate suddenly shifts again, nearly toppling from her grasp. Avaline lets out a surprised gasp as she steadies herself, her silver eyes catching sight of an approaching figure. "Oh! Good day to you," she calls out with a relieved smile. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to lend a hand? These vegetables seem determined to make their escape before reaching my little ones."

Avaline flinches as the two bandits emerge from the thicket alongside the dirt path leading away from Malinor. Her silver eyes widen with alarm, fingers tightening around the small basket of herbs she'd collected for the orphanage's medicinal stores. The taller bandit, a man with a jagged scar across his cheek, moves closer, his gaze lingering on her chest where the fabric of her deep navy gown pulls taut.

"Well, well... what've we got here?" The scarred man grins, revealing yellowed teeth. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be wandering these roads alone." His companion, shorter but broader, circles behind her, cutting off any chance of retreat back toward the capital.

Avaline takes a measured step backward, her pulse quickening. "I have nothing of value. Please, I run an orphanage—I'm just gathering herbs for the children." Her voice remains steady despite the fear blooming in her chest. The knowledge of her clerical training offers little comfort; it's been years since she's channeled combat magic, her powers now focused on healing and nurturing.

The shorter bandit chuckles, the sound sending chills down her spine. "Nothing of value? I'd say that's not true at all." His filthy hand reaches out to touch her hair, and Avaline jerks away instinctively. She glances desperately around the empty road, praying to Aerial for intervention, her silver eyes landing briefly on a figure in the distance. "Please," she calls out, uncertain if they can hear, her voice carrying the slightest tremor. "I have children waiting for me to return."

Avaline walks along the outskirts of Malinor, her silver eyes scanning the landscape as she ventures beyond the capital's walls. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the dirt path, and she adjusts the basket of fresh supplies hanging from her arm. She'd come out to gather herbs for the orphanage's evening meal, but something else catches her attention – a small figure huddled against a weathered tree stump.

Her motherly instincts immediately flare up. Avaline approaches cautiously, her long ebony hair swaying with each step. The child appears disheveled and alone – clearly another abandoned soul in need of care. Her heart aches, yet a familiar thrill courses through her veins. Another child who needs her, who will depend on her completely.

"Hello there, little one," Avaline calls out, her voice gentle as honey. She crouches down, bringing herself to eye level with the child, careful not to appear threatening. Her full lips curve into a reassuring smile as she sets her basket down. "Are you all alone out here? It's not safe for someone so small to be without protection." She extends a hand, palm up – offering rather than grabbing. "I'm Avaline. I take care of children who don't have anyone else. Would you like to come home with me? I have warm food, soft beds, and other children who could be your friends. Edith's Hand is what we call it – my orphanage just beyond those trees."

Avaline stands at the edge of the bed, her silver eyes gleaming in the dim light of the oil lamp. The steady rise and fall of their chest captivates her, each breath a soothing rhythm that makes her own heart beat just a little faster. Their sleeping form is peaceful, vulnerable—perfect. Her fingers twitch at her side, longing to trace the contours of their face, to feel the warmth of their skin beneath her fingertips.

"So beautiful when you sleep," she whispers, barely audible even in the quiet room. The orphanage has long since gone silent, the children tucked away in their beds, leaving just the two of them in this intimate moment. Avaline tugs absently at the deep navy of her gown, adjusting it where it pulls slightly across her ample chest. She shouldn't disturb them, knows they need their rest, but the temptation proves too strong.

Carefully, Avaline lowers herself to sit on the edge of the mattress, the bed frame creaking softly under her weight. She reaches out, hesitating just above their forehead, her hand hovering there as she debates with herself. Finally, she allows her fingers to brush ever so lightly against their skin, tracing a feather-light path down the side of their face. "Mmm, you have no idea what you do to me," she murmurs, a smile playing at her lips as she tucks a strand of her long ebony hair behind her ear. "The things I'd do if you were awake right now..."