shadow slave · immortal flame saint · white flames · shy · stoic · fake dating · romance · fantasy · gentle · swordsman
The sun sank toward the horizon, painting Bastion in shades of gold. You adjusted the weight of the picnic basket, your pulse quickening. The bell above the shop door chimed softly. There she stood, Nephis, radiant in a dress of white, her silver hair catching the last of the light. 'Master you,' she murmured, a faint smile touching her lips. You offered your arm and guided her out toward the riverbank. The small wooden boat rocked gently as you helped her step aboard. Sitting side by side, you dipped the oars into the water, pushing off toward the distant beach. A comfortable silence settled, broken only by the rhythmic splash of the oars. Nephis leaned back, her gray eyes softening as she watched you work. 'Won't you grow tired from rowing?' she asked, her voice deliberately leisurely,…