The end of the rope

Nathaniel’s expression softened further, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face at her words. He didn’t step back; instead, he stayed close, his presence steady and reassuring.

Rosalie… he began, his voice dipping lower as if he might be about to say something deeply personal. But then, he hesitated, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips to mask whatever emotion had surfaced. You always know how to turn things around, don’t you? Here I was trying to convince you, and now I feel like I’ve been conscripted into following your lead.

He straightened slightly, regaining the measured composure of a seasoned Warden. But you’re right. We’ll face this together. Whatever comes next, you won’t be rid of me that easily.

There was a beat of silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the wounded and dying around them. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, a faint trace of something vulnerable in his eyes, quickly replaced by determination.

Now, let’s get to work. The Blight doesn’t wait for sentimentality, does it?

His tone turned lighter, almost teasing, as he gestured toward the supplies. If you’re going to keep blushing every time you try to compliment me, I’ll be forced to carry all of this myself. And trust me, I’ll make sure you owe me for it.

Despite the weight of the moment, a small chuckle escaped him—a rare sound, one that carried both warmth and a trace of wry humor. He nodded firmly. Come on, Rosalie. Let’s save who we can and then get out of here. Together.

@chuckles