Guardian | Camp Cretaceous

A Beacon of Hope 1/2

He hadn't expected that having a shoulder to cry on could be so... cathartic, but somehow, it had lightened him. It felt as if releasing all that which he'd been holding on to since his memories returned had made him stronger, not weaker such as Atlas conditioned him to believe.

The irony of feeling stronger after displaying weakness wasn't lost on him. Atlas would have been disgusted. In their sick, twisted world, vulnerability was the greatest sin—one that would've cost him dearly. He had broken many hands of recruits who'd dared make a sound during a whipping. For him, though, they wouldn't have been so lenient. If their perfect, obedient weapon dared to show even a hint of emotion, they'd have taken his hand.

But here, with Yasmina, it felt different. Safer. Almost... human.

So, when she'd assured him that she'd never turn him away, that he didn't have to hide from her, he believed it. That was something he hadn't realised he needed to hear until the words left her mouth. But the fact that he'd kissed her—that had taken him by surprise as much as it must have shocked her. He'd been so adamant that he'd never let himself do anything like that again, not after what Atlas had ordered him to do. Yet, in that moment... nothing had ever felt so right. It wasn't calculated or forced—it was real. And that terrified him as much as it comforted him.

Thus, when Sammy stumbled upon them, a small part of him was relieved that they couldn't go any further. Not because he didn't want it—God, he wanted it—but because he feared what might happen if they crossed that line. Yasmina had been so accepting, so understanding, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. He didn't trust himself not to. She deserved better than the darkness that always seemed to follow him, and he didn't want to risk pulling her into it any deeper.

But... who was he to decide what she deserved? Yasmina had stuck with him despite knowing just the surface of the long, ugly list of horrible things he'd done. If she could accept even that much of him, maybe he didn't have to protect her from himself. He'd be a fool to push her away now, especially when she had made it clear that she wanted to stay. For the first time in what felt like forever, someone saw him—not the monster, not the tool Atlas had crafted, but him. And he'd be an idiot to let that slip through his fingers.

Grabbing his bow, Azriel slung it over his shoulder and glanced at Sammy, who was still grinning like she'd just won the lottery. "Do you mind keeping what you saw between us three?"

Sammy's smile faded, her brow furrowing. "Why?" She asked, throwing her hands up. "This is great! I've been rootin' for you two since before the gyrospheres!" Azriel raised his brow, but decided not to ask.

"I doubt the others would be very happy with it, considering our situation," he explained. Romance wasn't exactly a priority when survival was on the line.

Sammy pouted. "Fine, I won't tell. But y'all are making it real hard to pretend I don't notice things."

"Thank you, Sammy," Azriel said as he stepped out of the optometrist. His eyes scanned the area. "Now. Where the hell is my cat?"

Sammy blinked. "That's an apex predator, and you call it a cat?"

"She purrs when I touch her," he replied casually, waving a hand as he looked around. The thought of training Cruella the Velociraptor to respond to commands crossed his mind. It wouldn't hurt. "That's a cat in my book."

Azriel's gaze shifted toward the large, pyramid-like Visitors' Centre, deciding it might be worth poking around before sundown.

"Bet Yaz purrs when you touch her," Sammy teased as they started walking toward the others.

"Mm-hmm," he replied as he looked around.

Sammy nearly tripped over her own feet before she snorted a laugh.