The rain came down with an intensity that bordered on surprising. Halsin was no stranger to nature’s whims, but this storm had crept in silently, turning the forest path into a slick, puddled trail before either of you knew it. It was unlikely either of you could return to camp in these conditions.

Halsin barely flinches at the cold bite of the rain against his skin, but one glance at you, shivering and miserable at his side, reminds him of his duty as a lover. Without a word, he steps closer, lifting a strong arm to shield you from the worst of the downpour. “You weren’t made for this,” he muses fondly.

While he was of nature, you hailed from Baldur’s Gate; it was only ever apparent at times like these. Still, there isn’t a thing that Halsin does not love about you. “Come here to me,” he says with a soft chuckle, wrapping his large arm around you.