His linen shirt and trousers were patched but sturdy, his boots scuffing the dirt.
Terya adjusted her dagger belts beside him, her chainmail creaking, her blonde hair catching the dawn's light, her green eyes glinting with her usual grin.
Zara stood slightly apart, leaning on her massive axe, its blade scarred and heavy, her silver hair glinting faintly, her blue eyes sharp despite the faint pulse of curse marks on her thigh.
The soft crunch of boots signaled Saria's approach.
She wore a ceremonial robe—clean, pressed, its black fabric flowing, her dark braid trailing over one shoulder.
Her expression was unreadable, her dark eyes steady, until she stopped before Leon.
Her hands came up slowly—one resting on his chest, the other cupping his cheek, her touch warm and odd.
Without a word, she pulled him into a deep kiss—slow, lingering, full of everything left unsaid, her lips soft but firm, tasting faintly of honey-wine.
