In one of the Elverstone Stronghold's balconies, overlooking the golden-tangerine crown in between the gorge of the stark valley, both Nathalie and Jonathan sat right across from the small table.
She took her time admiring the beauty that flashed her eyes while she grazed her hand over the white linen cloth then to the glass of iced tea; with a grab, a crisp clinking mused her ears and indulged the spur moment of relaxation.
Meanwhile, Jonathan propped his arm on the table, similarly glancing and admiring the sunset, blossoming, and painted the sky with crimson hues. He had a red wine to drink, a deep contrast to hers.
In the meantime, they have been negotiating for plans. While Nathalie was willing to concoct more of it, provided Jonathan had adequate resources, he would provide more workforce to hasten her projects.
They talked so much that they already lost track of time, and she didn't hate every second of it.
