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It’s a moment of absolute serenity that Bennett is rarely fortunate enough to experience.
The sky is clear, with stars glittering beautifully amongst a blanket of deep blue and a waning moon casting its pale silver light down upon the open plain. A cool breeze caresses the grass, rustling the leaves of the few nearby trees, and goosebumps rise across his arms while his body adjusts its heat to the chill. There’s no threat of rain in the air, no sign of danger lurking in the shadows.
This must be what it’s like to be anyone else—just a normal person who isn’t weighed down by an endless streak of bad luck. This blessing, the chance to enjoy this early-spring night in all of its glory, is surely fleeting, and he’ll savor every moment.
Bennett takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a long, heavy sigh as his lips curve into the faintest of smiles—soft, content, peaceful. He’s lying on his back with his hands resting at his stomach, sandwiched between his two closest friends—the last one to remain awake after a long day of exploring and hiking.
To his left is Razor, curled up close to his side with an arm draped across his waist. Razor’s legs are tangled with his own, and his hair is an unkempt mess of grey that’s spread across the grass. He’s snoring, the breaths warm and even against Bennett’s shoulder.
The otherwise-unlucky adventurer tilts his head to the Wolvendom boy, nose brushing against his hair while his lips ghost across his forehead. But Bennett refrains from a kiss—it would be wrong to steal one while Razor is sleeping, wouldn’t it?—and quickly turns to Fischl instead, his cheeks flaming.
And the princess is so small and fragile there, to his right, clinging to his arm and keeping her face hidden. Each breath is a barely-there sigh, gentle and sweet. Though she sometimes murmurs to herself in her sleep, she’s silent now, curling into Bennett’s warmth.
She’s—so, so cute.
There are little flames licking at his fingertips and burning the exposed skin of his belly; Bennett quickly redirects his attention to the sky, focusing his gaze again on the stars above and willing Barbatos to send another breeze across the valley, a colder one this time, one that might help to keep his Vision in check before embarrassment makes him catch fire.
It does come, eventually, but so do clouds. So does the unforecast rain.