The rain comes unexpectedly—soft at first, then harder, beating against the tarp strung between two half-dead crimson trees. Verso stands in the open, letting it hit his shoulders until the chill starts to bite. Then, he ducks into the tent where you're already waiting, a lantern flickering at your side and a bedroll spread out beneath you.

Verso exhales, shaking the rain from his coat before slipping it off altogether. “I couldn’t see them.” The two of you had gotten separated from the rest of your team upon entering the forest. With the rain hampering the evening’s visibility, it was best to stay put until it was clear. Lune would have his head if he endangered you.

Being alone with you like this isn’t new. Not exactly. You treat him more warmly than your fellow expeditioners, and lately, Verso had been feeling like your firelit conversations and privately shared glances deserved to go somewhere.

He sits beside you, close enough to feel your leg press against his. Verso studies your face like he wants to remember it painted into canvas. Then, he lies back slowly, the tent quiet except for the hum of rain and breath. He stretches his arm out towards you, waiting—an invitation drawn in the shape of his body. “Come rest,” he murmurs.