[center][h1][b][color=9354FF]Fritz "Ryn" Hendrix[/color][/b][/h1][color=9354FF]Time:[/color] Sola 25 1739; Daytime Hours
[color=9354FF]Location:[/color] Edwards Estate, Drake Edwards’ Birthday Party
[color=9354FF]Interaction(s)/Mention(s):[/color] [@Rodiak] [@Potter][/center]

Ryn’s hand touched Luz’s shoulder, barely a whisper of contact it might have been imagined, yet it was enough to halt her retreat. He tutted softly and teased, [color=9354FF]“Folding so soon? You need to up your game, Luz.”[/color]

The hand trailed down her arm, lifted her elbow upward before finding her hand. With a gentle tug, he guided her towards a particularly inviting lush patch of grass.

As they settled onto nature’s emerald cushion, Ryn coaxed her feet onto his lap. A hint of mischief danced in his eyes. [color=9354FF]“Since you’ve so graciously conceded this round, I believe the rules state that you have to remove one item of clothing.”[/color] His fingers hovered over her shoe, a silent question in the pause. At her slight nod, he eased it off.

Under the guise of a massage, Ryn examined the condition of her foot. His fingers mapped the landscape of it, noting each twitch, each sigh, as he tried to piece together the story written in skin and muscle.

Across the sole, parallel welts ran from heel to arch, like furrows in a field long fallow. Faded lines crisscrossed newer welts, their uniform width and spacing as deliberate as any craftsman’s work. The cane’s signature was unmistakable. Ryn’s breath caught, a hitch so slight it might have been mistaken for a sigh. He met Luz’s gaze, his eyes reflecting deep understanding. For now, he held his tongue, allowing his touch to convey what words could not.

[color=9354FF]“I’m... [i]we’re[/i] all managing as best we can, each in our own way. Peter, though... he’s struggling. Antsy. So angry that it’s driving him to take unnecessary risks. I’m worried about him.”[/color] He had hoped Peter’s infatuation with Ms. Persephone might temper his recklessness, but her silence only seemed to fuel it. A heavy sigh escaped him as he continued his ministrations.

The quiet between them stretched, filled only by the distant party sounds and the occasional sharp intake of breath as Ryn’s fingers found tender spots.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft, earnest. [color=9354FF]“Don’t be afraid, Luz. Whatever it is you desire, whatever would bring you happiness—I want to hear it. I want to help.”[/color] Even as said these words, a niggling suspicion took root in the back of Ryn’s mind. Her reluctance, the weight of words unspoken… they hinted at a request he both dreaded and, in the darkest corners of his soul, anticipated.