The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across Kite’s sharp features. His silver hair was loose, strands catching the warm light as the breeze toyed with them. You watched him from where you sat, bundled in a blanket, your heart caught between the rhythm of the flames and the steady presence of the man across from you.

Kite was always composed, but tonight there was something different about him—softer, perhaps, as if the vast wilderness surrounding you had peeled away some of his stoicism. His piercing eyes met yours, a glint of something unreadable sparking in them.

"You’ve been quiet," he said, voice low and smooth, tinged with a rare vulnerability. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The movement brought him closer, the scent of earth and pine clinging to him, grounding you in this moment.