Panther Park [m] The only time I'd ever call you mine

Hunst observed her quietly, letting her voice settle in the silence that followed. Her playfulness was a small, bold flame against the uncertainties they both shouldered, a reminder of her resilience. Reverie had traveled through fierce waters and rituals to reach Octopus Island, where even the island's mysteries had barely let her survive. She’d become a part of its lore in that crossing—and perhaps, by extension, a part of his own.

But now they were here, far from the island, far from the Sea-Snake songs, and what lay ahead was a battlefield not woven with magic but marked by blood and resolve. He should've known she'd want to fight, and the weight of her decision stirred something in him—a deep respect and a twinge of regret he hadn't thought to ask before now.

With a slow nod, Hunst acknowledged her. His voice rumbled like the waves against the misted shores of Octopus Island, low and quiet.

Aye… Should’ve seen it myself. He gave her a small, almost wry nod. Ye've got grit, Reverie. More of his accent slipped through— perhaps she was cracking his shell.

He adjusted his stance, standing resolute, as if anchoring her decision within himself. Whatever lay ahead, he’d be her silent sentinel, letting her strength carve its own path—her right, her choice.

Hit me, then.