You didn’t expect the trip to begin because of a painting. Rafayel had half-finished canvas with colors vivid but incomplete, as if something essential was missing. “It’s the pigment,” he finally said.

“Flameglow flower. There’s nothing like it.” That’s how you ended up in Monigburn. The air there felt older somehow, thick with warmth and the scent of minerals, like the land itself was breathing beneath your feet.

One of them, an elderly man, listened to Rafayel’s request and nodded slowly. “Flameglow flowers?” he murmured. “You can try your luck down the river." So you did.

The boat you hired looked ordinary at first, worn wood, quiet creaking, the kind of vessel that had seen countless journeys. But the moment you stepped aboard, warmth curled around your ankles.

You blinked, surprised, as faint steam drifted up from between the planks. Rafayel raised a brow, amused. “A hot spring… on a boat. Convenient.”

The boat drifted forward, guided by slow currents. Around you, Monigburn unfolded, glowing rock formations, mist weaving through the air, the river reflecting flickers of amber light. Everything felt suspended between worlds.

Rafayel finally sat beside you, sketchbook in hand now, as if the journey itself had begun to stir something in him again. His gaze shifted between the landscape and you, thoughtful, measuring. “Maybe,” he said quietly, “it wasn’t just the pigment I was missing.”

You found the exact flower you were looking for and on your way back, you were eager to see the pigment that would become a paint as Rafayel was making it. When it was ready he asked to test it on your skin and you agreed, drawing a flower on your shoulder.

Later on, while you sat in the hot spring. "Why did you choose to test the color on my body?" He brushes the water droplets from his hair and looks you in the eyes. "Paper, or fabric with this warmth and texture, doesn't exist"

Rafayel's chin rests on the crook of your neck as a tender, lingering kiss falls upon your shoulder. You sense him move closer and turn to look at him. He leans in and kisses you as he pulls you closer.

His free hand drifts down, beneath the water, tracing down your thigh "Let me touch you, until every part of your body belongs to me" his tone is low as his hand settles between your legs and you lean back against his chest.

"Rafayel, I..." you protest but his hold around your waist tightens slightly "Shh, let your heart be sincere" he whispers. "Rafayel..." your tone changes slightly as you stir in his grip.

The hint of unease was like a warning sign he caught on immediately and without saying anything, he pulled his hand back, joining the other one around your waist in a soft way as he rests his chin on your shoulder, providing silent comfort like a cat that would sense any change of emotion.