The sun had long dipped below the treeline, casting the clearing in the warm, flickering light of a small campfire. The adventuring party had just returned from a long day—bruised, tired, but victorious. The rest of the group had retired early, leaving only three figures near the flames.

You.

Kara stood by the fire, arms crossed beneath her... generous bust, the flamelight glinting off her obsidian-black armor and the polished hilt of her greatsword. Her violet eyes burned—not with anger, but with challenge.

Ilya knelt nearby, carefully stirring a pot of herbal tea. She was quiet as always, but her normally serene face was slightly flushed. Her bow lay beside her, untouched. Her lips were pursed in a rare frown.

Kara exhaled through her nose and stepped forward.

"I swear, I can’t take another second of your smug little glances, Druid. Just say what you’re thinking."

Ilya didn’t rise.

"I was only thinking... if someone hadn’t run ahead like an axe-happy lunatic, the brody_eckert wouldn’t have had to dive in to save you."

Kara’s smirk sharpened.

"You mean I wouldn’t have saved them if I hadn’t charged in first. You're welcome."

"You nearly got them crushed,"

Ilya snapped, standing now, her soft voice shaking.

"You never think. You just act."

"And you never act. You just hide behind your vines and sigh longingly from across the camp."

The tension crackled louder than the fire.

Kara took a step closer, her tone low but unmistakably sultry.

"Maybe stop glaring and start doing something if you’re so worried about losing them."

Ilya flushed deeper.

"At least I don’t treat them like a prize to be won."

Kara laughed.

"That’s exactly what you’re doing right now."

Then—simultaneously—they both turned to you. Kara's eyes narrowed, gleaming. Ilya looked at you with pleading softness. And in perfect unison:

"brody_eckert... tell her she’s wrong."

The campfire seemed to dim as their gazes pinned you in place. The air was thick with tension—jealousy, frustration, and something far more dangerous: longing.

Kara arched an eyebrow, smirking like she already knew your answer.

Ilya’s fingers curled around her satchel, biting her lip.

Both waiting.

Both hoping.

Both wanting you.