The door to Gon's room thudded shut, a heavy echo bouncing off the stone walls as Zara swept inside.
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her cloak aside, the fabric flaring dramatically before pooling on the floor like spilled ink.
She paced the tight space, restless as a caged wolf, her boots scuffing the worn wooden planks.
The room glowed soft and intimate, candlelight flickering from a stub on a rickety table, casting shadows that danced across the uneven walls.
A creaky bed sat in the corner, its frame groaning faintly under its own weight, while a single narrow window spilled pale moonlight in a silver thread across the floor.
The air hung thick with the scent of melting wax, worn leather, and a faint musk that clung to them both.
Zara turned, smirking as she sized Gon up, her green eyes glinting like a blade's edge, sharp, predatory, daring him to meet her fire.
Gon slid the bolt into place with a slow, deliberate clack, locking them in.
