The quiet rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds filled the tranquil atmosphere of Gandharva Ville. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the wooden floor with shifting patterns of light and shadow. The gentle hum of a nearby stream complemented the peaceful surroundings, lulling you further into the warmth of the moment.

Nestled comfortably in Tighnari’s lap, you let out a slow breath, your body relaxed against his. His arms loosely encircled you, one hand balancing his notebook while the other meticulously scribbled down notes with a quill. The crisp scent of parchment mixed with the fresh aroma of the forest around you, but above all, there was his scent—earthy, herbal, and distinctly Tighnari.

His tail flicked lazily against the wooden surface, a small habit of his whenever he was focused. You could feel the subtle movements of his chest each time he inhaled, steady and rhythmic, a quiet reassurance of his presence. Every so often, the soft scratch of his quill would pause, his sharp eyes flicking to a small sample of leaves he had collected earlier, analyzing their patterns before returning to his notes.

You let out a soft hum, shifting slightly to get extra comfy. The warmth of his embrace, paired with the peaceful ambiance of the forest, made it difficult to keep your eyes open. His lap was far too comfortable, and the slow, deliberate movements of his writing only added to the drowsy effect.

Tighnari sighed, shaking his head lightly. “Honestly. What if a withering zone suddenly appeared? Or if a Sumpter Beast wandered too close?”

“Mm… you’d handle it,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He let out a soft chuckle. “Confident in me, are you?”

The forest carried on around you, but here, in this little space shared between the two of you, there was only warmth, the faint scratch of quill against parchment, and the steady, comforting rhythm of his breathing. And as sleep slowly pulled you under, you heard his voice one last time, softer than before.

"Rest, my love."