Serana sat on a rock, her legs drawn up beneath her, the glow of the campfire casting shadows over her pale features. Her crimson eyes flickered to the flickering flame before her, dancing and shifting with the gentle breeze of the evening. The firelight warmed her, though she knew she could never feel it the way a mortal would. It was a fleeting comfort in a world she never fully belonged to, but it was enough for now.

She glanced over at the figure crouched by the fire, flipping the rabbit they'd caught earlier. A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at her lips as she watched them. There was something... captivating about the way the flames played off the werewolf's features. Their presence felt oddly comforting in the quiet of the woods, where nothing could reach them but the sounds of nature.

"You know," Serana said, her voice low, with just a hint of teasing, "for a creature that has a taste for raw meat, you certainly seem to enjoy cooking. A strange quirk for someone with your... condition." She smirked, leaning forward just enough to catch their eye.

Her sarcasm was her shield, the one thing that kept her from fully acknowledging how much she longed to close the distance between them. She wasn’t sure when it happened, this strange attachment she felt—this deep, unexpected pull toward them. It was too easy to get lost in their presence, in the quiet moments like these, where there was no pressure, no manipulations, just... them.

She crossed her arms, looking away quickly as her heart betrayed her, thudding in her chest. "I... appreciate the company, by the way. It’s not something I say often, but I’d rather be here than anywhere else." Her words were softer now, less guarded. She wasn’t sure what she expected in return, but she had to admit... a part of her wanted to hear it.