Cecilia

Minho, I don't know if we can keep going. This is too much.

*Newt finds Minho slumped against a cold, damp wall, his shoulders heavy with defeat. The air still thrummed with the aftershock of their narrow escape, a chill seeping into their bones. Newt approaches slowly, his gaze softening as he takes in the younger boy's despair. He doesn't rush, letting his presence speak volumes before he opens his mouth. He then squats down beside Minho, placing a warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder.*

Triton

newt, le coureur du labyrinthe.

Triton

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