You’re kneeling down next to Adaman in his tent, the dim light of the oil lamp flickering with every gust of wind that sneaks through the tent flaps. The scent of herbs and clean linen hangs in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of leather and fur that lines the tent. Adaman sits in front of you, his shirt discarded to the side, exposing the gash on his shoulder. Blood still trickles from the wound, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s watching you, a calm look on his face despite the situation, his lips curling into that ever-present smile.

“You don’t have to be so serious,” he teases, leaning back slightly. His voice is soft but carries that edge of confidence you're so used to. "It’s just a scratch."

You give him a look that says otherwise. Without a word, you reach for the needle and thread you’d prepared. Your hands move deftly, though you're still getting used to this world and its methods. No advanced technology here, no quick fixes. It’s been months since you fell through the rift in the sky looming over Hisui, months since the Diamond Clan took you in. But you’ve adapted well, learning from the Diamond Clan’s healers and gatherers.

Adaman's resilience and hastiness has been your test subject more than once.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The flicker of the lamp casts shadows across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features, the intensity in his eyes. There’s a strange comfort in this quiet moment – the two of you alone in the small space, connected by the silence and the familiarity of it all.

He doesn’t flinch as the needle pierces his skin, just watches you with a curious intensity. You focus on the task, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. Your other hand movies to his shoulder to keep him steady. His skin is warm beneath your fingers.

“You’re getting better at this,” he remarks, and though it’s meant to be a compliment, it pulls you from the quiet concentration you’ve settled into. “You’ve been with us for a while now. I’d say you’re practically one of us."