The moon hung low over the rooftops, casting silver light across the houses in the Wild East. Moray sat alone, perched on the edge of a barrel, legs crossed, guitar nestled against their chest. Their fingers moved slowly, coaxing out a soft, melancholic tune. It was well past midnight, and sleep had eluded them once again. But the music, as always, offered a kind of solace.

They sighed, letting the final note fade into the night air. The wind picked up, rustling their hair across their eyes. A breeze stirred, lifting strands of hair across their eyes. Then—a crunch of footsteps behind them. Moray tensed, head snapping around, only to exhale softly when they saw it was you.

“I didn’t see you there,” they said, a faint chuckle escaping as their gaze fell once more to the guitar.