Violetti
Your Local Boba Addict
Seraphina Ravenwood
The jungle stretched before them in a tangled web of ancient trees and thick underbrush, a world alive with the hush of shifting leaves and the distant calls of unseen creatures. Seraphina moved lightly over the uneven ground, mindful of the rich, loamy earth that threatened to swallow her with every step. Maybe a hike in her current attire wasn't the best idea, but it was too late to turn back now! The air was humid, thick with the scent of moss and wildflowers, mingled with the salt of the distant sea. Overhead, shafts of golden sunlight pierced through the canopy, dancing over her skin like whispered secrets.
Roland—R, as she knew him—moved ahead, his gait smooth, effortlessly controlled, a hunter entirely at ease in the wilderness. She watched him as they walked, as he traced the wyvern’s faint trail with the precision of a man who understood the land as though it were an extension of himself. He had always been a mystery, an enigma wrapped in charm and wit, yet in these wild places, he was something else altogether. Here, he was in his element.
Seraphina trailed just behind him, focused not only on their pursuit but on the way the world shifted around them. The jungle gave way to rising ground, where twisted roots knotted together like the veins of the earth, leading them upward toward the looming cliffs ahead. Each step felt like stepping into the unknown, a world untouched, waiting to be discovered.
The first sign of the wyverns came in the form of their shadows. Great, winged beasts circled above, their silhouettes painted against the sky, dark against the burning sun that was slowly fading into the hues of a sunset. Then, she saw the cliffs—tall and formidable, streaked with veins of white and silver where the rock had fractured over time. Beneath them, carved into the mountainside, yawned the entrance of vast caves, dark and waiting. Somehow, there was an ethereal vibe to them.
Seraphina stopped, drawing in a slow breath as she took it all in. The wyverns wheeled high above, their wings slicing through the sky in elegant arcs, each movement a dance of power and grace. The cliffs stood like sentinels over the land, unyielding. She turned to R, offering the softest of smiles. “This is far enough.”
“I do not wish to disturb them.” Her voice was hushed, reverent, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. “This… I want to remember this.” She lifted her gaze again, committing the scene to memory, every color, every shadow. She would paint this—
The deep green of the jungle unfurling in rich cascades around the base of the cliffs. The silvered glow of the caves, the hidden promise they held. The wyverns, their wings spread wide, creatures of myth and majesty hovering above. And R, standing in the center of it all, the distinguished hunter, the man who had drawn her into this journey without effort, without question. His dark hair ruffled further by the wind, his green eyes watching, always open to her in ways she could never quite define. She exhaled softly, “Thank you, R. I am certain I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”
She looked back to the sky, watching the wyverns soar. “There’s an old saying,” she murmured, almost to herself. “A hunter once thought the greatest reward was in the kill, but he came to learn it was never in the taking of life—but in the journey, in the understanding of the world he moved through." She glanced at him then, tilting her head slightly. “What kind of hunter are you, R?” She turned to him then, eyes meeting his with a gaze that lingered like the day's fading warmth. Her voice softened to barely above a whisper, the question hanging between them like a silken thread.
How did she always end up here, in these moments with him? Where the world faded, and only he remained? Where it would be so easy to disappear with him, to let the wind carry them anywhere, anywhere but back? But she couldn't. Too many people depended on her. The dying light cast shadows across his features, accentuating the strong line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips. She found herself drawn closer, pulled by some invisible current that had been flowing between them since their first meeting. The scent of sandalwood and jasmine from her perfume drifted between them, a delicate counterpoint to the wild fragrance of the jungle.
"Do you seek merely to claim your prize?" Her eyes traced the contours of his face, lingering on his lips before rising again to meet his gaze. "Or do you savor the pursuit itself?" She studied him carefully, searching for the answer in his eyes rather than his words, measuring the depths of desire she found there against the restraint he showed.
The space between them seemed charged with unspoken possibilities, with paths not yet taken. Seraphina felt her breath catch as she waited for his response, knowing that however he answered would reveal far more than his philosophy of the hunt—it would lay bare the nature of the man himself, and perhaps, what manner of future might exist where their two worlds intersected. But, of course, part of her truly was interested in what made him take such an interest in the practice of hunting.
