Moonstone Quarry dragonspine

Aneira’s breath caught; only slightly, a subtle shift, barely there save for the way her lashes lowered just a beat too long. The closeness was unexpected, yet not unwelcome; her thoughts, like leaves in wind, scattered for a moment beneath the weight of his presence.
She tilted her chin, turquoise gaze slipping to the side, not from shyness, but from the strange heat blooming behind her cheeks. It was foolish, she told herself. The light, the hour, the quiet; it was all weaving something tender around her, and she wasn’t used to being seen this way. And by a married man nonetheless!
A beat passed. Then, softly, as though afraid the hush between them might shatter if she breathed too hard: „Good,” she murmured, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. „I’d hate for you to think I haunt this place alone.”
A flicker of her eyes, a glance up through snowy lashes; fleeting, then gone. She didn't move away. His chest hovered just shy of her shoulder, a breath apart, yet she remained still, unwilling to move, unwilling to close the space that felt both impossibly small and immeasurably vast.