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Kayla smiled, happy, as he kissed up her neck before kissing him hungrily and deep |
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Gale climbed ontop of her,letting his hand wrap around her waist and pull her up,the other on her head as he pulled her up aswell.He pulled away breifly.Gale leaned in a little closer, his voice a teasing whisper. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re making it really hard for me to keep my distance." With that he went back to kissing her. |
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Kayla giggled quietly and kept kissing him, deepening it more and smiling into the kiss |
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Gale deepened the kiss,hearing a sound of footsteps.His head snapped back,him climbing off Kayla as he pulled her up,sitting himself down in a chair,making himself look like he was doing something. "Gale,Cap wants you." Jacoby warned,popping his head in.Gale's chest heaved,him managing to get a 'got it' out.He pulled on a different cloak,this one clean and free of holes.He slung his black bow and sheath of arrows up before giving Kayla a quick kiss before heading out. |
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Kayla watched him leave, half worried something was wrong, but brushed off the thought. She laid back down on the cot and twirled the dager in her hands |
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Gale pushed aside the flap of the captain's tent, the soft rustling of fabric breaking the silence as he stepped inside. His boots barely made a sound on the dirt floor as he entered, the dim light inside casting long shadows against the canvas walls. His black bow was slung over his shoulder, the curve of the wood smooth and familiar, while the quiver of arrows at his back rested silently, ready. The black cloak he wore flowed behind him as he moved, its edges brushing the ground like the wings of a shadow. It was simple yet elegant, and it gave him an air of quiet strength. The dark fabric blended seamlessly with the night, a perfect match for his demeanor—intense, controlled, but with a touch of danger beneath the calm surface. The captain was sitting at the table, a map spread out in front of him, the soft flicker of a nearby lantern casting flickering light across his face. He looked up as Gale entered, his eyes narrowing slightly, a quick flicker of recognition crossing his features. “You’re late,” the captain said, his voice low but not unwelcoming. Gale’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, his eyes glinting with quiet confidence. “I like to make an entrance,” he replied smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness. He crossed the room with measured steps, the cloak shifting with each movement, and finally stopped a few feet from the table. Gale set his bow and arrows down with a soft thud on the wooden floor, the weapons appearing almost like an extension of him. His hand brushed the edges of the cloak, straightening it out casually before he met the captain's gaze. “We’re ready,” Gale said simply, the underlying confidence in his tone unmistakable. He wasn’t just talking about the mission. He was talking about everything—the preparation, the strategy, the outcome. The captain studied him for a moment, eyes scanning him from head to toe, assessing. Then, with a nod, he finally spoke. “Good. Let’s get to it.” Gale smirked and gave a slight bow of his head, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken trust between them. It was a rare thing, but with the captain, it felt natural. Without another word, he straightened up and turned toward the map, ready for whatever came next. |
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Kayla curled up into a ball, putting the knife away and slowly drifting off |
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Gale's voice cut through the stillness of the tent as he took a step closer to the table, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the map spread before them. His fingers lightly traced the edges of the paper, though his attention was squarely on the captain. "Where's the attack going to be?" he asked, his tone firm but without a hint of hesitation. He had already read the room, already assessed everything. His mind was already working through the possibilities, calculating angles, timing, and contingencies. The captain’s gaze flickered to Gale for a moment before he leaned over the map, his fingers brushing over a marked location—an area deep in enemy territory, far from the usual routes. The captain’s eyes hardened. "Here," the captain said, tapping the map with a sharp finger. "It’s a surprise strike. The enemy doesn’t expect us to hit so deep, so quickly." Gale’s lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned in, his dark eyes scanning the terrain, the strategic points marked with precision. He had no time to waste—he could already see the path, the movements, the risks. Everything was falling into place in his mind. "I’ll get us there," Gale said, voice steady, the weight of his words holding an unspoken promise. The captain gave him a glance of acknowledgment, a rare flicker of trust in his eyes. "Good," the captain replied, voice quiet but decisive. "You’ll need to move fast. You’ll have the cover of night, but don’t underestimate them. They’ll know we’re coming soon enough." Gale nodded once, sharply, before pulling his bow off his back and adjusting the quiver at his side. His fingers brushed the sleek wood, a quiet rhythm of focus settling over him as the map faded from his mind. "You’ll get your strike," Gale said, his eyes steady with the certainty of someone who had already seen the mission through to the end. "And I’ll be ready when the time comes." Without another word, he turned to leave, the cloak swirling behind him like a shadow, and the faint sound of his boots hitting the ground was the only trace of his exit. |
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Kayla slowly drifted into a light sleep, dreaming of Gale |
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As Gale stepped back through the tent’s flap, the cool night air greeted him, carrying the scent of earth and the distant hum of preparation. His mind was already racing ahead, plotting the quickest, quietest route. He could feel the weight of the mission settling on his shoulders, but it wasn’t a burden. It was what he was made for. His fingers brushed the smooth surface of his bow as he moved toward the camp’s edge, where the horses were tethered and the others were gathering. He didn’t need to look back to know the captain’s gaze was still on him, waiting for him to lead. The camp was busy, soldiers moving with purpose, checking their gear and readying for the night’s work. But Gale’s eyes were on the horizon, already seeing the path ahead, already knowing the movements in his bones. His boots made soft echoes in the night as he approached a smaller, shadowed area where his horse was waiting. The black mare stood still, her sleek coat blending with the darkness of the evening. Gale reached out, brushing his hand along the animal’s neck, feeling the steady pulse beneath the surface, the familiar bond they shared. “Let’s make this quick,” he murmured to her, his voice barely audible but full of quiet intent. With practiced ease, he mounted, the weight of his bow and quiver settling against his back. The cloak fell gently around him, its dark folds blending seamlessly with the night. Without a word to the others, he nudged the mare forward, moving out into the open, past the tents and toward the edge of the camp. His mind was already shifting gears. It was the middle of the night. The cover of darkness was their ally, but it also meant the slightest mistake could cost them everything. But Gale didn’t make mistakes. He was calculated, precise. The route ahead was clear in his mind, and he would navigate it with the same unshakable certainty that had kept him alive through countless battles. As he moved deeper into the shadows, his thoughts drifted briefly back to the captain’s map. The enemy camp was only a few miles out, but the surprise attack wasn’t the only advantage. Gale knew their enemies would be on edge, expecting an assault from a different direction, giving them the edge they needed. His eyes scanned the path ahead, anticipating obstacles and enemies. Each movement felt instinctual. His cloak fluttered silently behind him, like a shadow itself, while the black bow and arrows on his back became an extension of him. He was ready. The quiet of the night surrounded him, but his mind was focused—nothing else mattered except the mission and the strike that would come. Ahead, the flickering light of the campfires marking the enemy’s position began to appear on the horizon. Gale slowed his pace, narrowing his eyes as he watched the shapes of soldiers moving in the distance. The plan was simple. Get in, strike hard, and get out before they knew what hit them. As he drew closer, his hand instinctively moved to his bow, fingers brushing against the string. The familiar weight felt grounding, like it always had. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come. There would be no room for hesitation. Tonight, the mission would be a success. And Gale would ensure it, just as he always did. |
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Very Clear with night time Meteor Shower
