"I promise to tell you when I'm frustrated or scared or feeling stuck. No hiding behind humor or deflection." She holds my gaze. "And I promise to build a life that includes both worlds—not choose one over the other."
"Trinity—"
"Your turn."
I breathe. "I promise to stay. Even when it's difficult. Even when clan politics make me want to walk away." I take her hands. "And I promise to trust you. Your choices, your strength. To stop assuming you'll leave."
"Good." She grins suddenly. "Now we seal it."
"We just had a ceremony."
"That was official. This isours." She hops up, rummages through her tiny kitchen.
Returns with a marker.
"Give me your arm."
I extend it, confused.
Trinity uncaps the marker, writes carefully on my forearm.
Trinity's orc. No refunds.
"Permanent marker," she says solemnly. "Lasts like three days. Very binding."
"This is ridiculous."
"This isromantic." She offers me the marker. "Your turn."
I take it. Write on her forearm with deliberate strokes.
Korgan's human. No returns.
She reads it, eyes shining. "Perfect."
We sit there, inked promises drying, utterly absurd.
"We're idiots," Trinity says.
"Partnered idiots."
"The best kind."
I pull her close. She fits against me like she was designed for it.
"I want slow," I tell her. "Not the show's pace. Not media expectations. Just—us. Building something real."
"Slow sounds good." She tilts her head. "What does slow look like?"
"Finding an apartment. Learning to share space without killing each other over toothpaste."
"Very romantic."
"Meeting your family. Letting them judge me over casserole."
"They'll love you."
"You haven't seen me handle passive aggression."
