Prompt: Moon
Crime Sorciere slept, huddled together in the large tent that Erza had managed to produce from one of her many pocket spaces. Macbeth, however, could never sleep at the height of night when his magic flowed strongest through his veins, and so found himself sitting by the dying embers of the fire instead.
The moon shone, bright and full, down upon the small encampment – lighting up the surrounding area far more effectively and kindly than any fire could.
Erza, returning from her turn at watch, startled a little at seeing his darker form in the light; Macbeth watched as she shrugged off her momentary unease, and nodded at her when she passed by him to reach the tent.
"Good luck on your watch," she told him as she vanished from his sight.