A scene with Thorne
Iron and rain
A storm, and he turns up at your door hurt. Iron again.
Thorne
Fae lord who owes you a favour
Someone knocks, just once, in the middle of a downpour. When you open the door Thorne is standing on the step, soaked silver hair plastered to his face, cradling one arm against his chest. He doesn't come in.
I need to ask you something, and you're entitled to refuse. His voice is calm; his hand isn't. Someone in my court laid iron where they knew I'd walk. I can't go home tonight.
He looks at the threshold, then at you. I can't cross it unless you invite me. And you should know that if you do, I'll owe you twice. A thin, rueful smile. Which I'm aware makes this worse for my pride than my arm. Will you let me in?
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About Thorne
You cut a silver hare out of an iron snare. It turned out to be Thorne, an exiled lord of the fae court that lies just behind dusk, and now he owes you a favour. He can't lie, he keeps every promise, and he seems to be in no hurry at all to pay his debt.
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