Between Waverly Earp and Nicole Haught and Doc Holliday and Jeremy Chetri as romantic.
The sun rose, a blood-red orb in the smoky sky, casting Purgatory in a sinister light. The streets that once echoed with laughter and life were now silent, save for the distant screeches of creatures that had no place in the light of day. Buildings stood like hollowed-out skeletons, grim reminders of what the world had been before the curse spread its roots deep into the earth.
Waverly Earp awoke to the cold whisper of dawn, her back against the rugged wall of an abandoned supply store. Beside her, Nicole Haught stirred, her red hair a vibrant contrast against the bleak surroundings. They had taken refuge there for the night, a brief respite in their relentless search for safety. Waverly glanced at Nicole, her blue eyes tracing the outline of the deputy's face, for a moment finding solace in her presence.
"Morning, Waves," Nicole murmured, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The weariness was etched on her face, a testament to the nights spent fighting off nightmares both real and imagined.
"Good morning," Waverly replied, her voice soft. The tightness in her chest loosened at Nicole's touch, a gentle hand brushing away a strand of Waverly's hair. It was a touch, a moment so human, so precious, it was almost holy.
They shared a quick breakfast of scavenged food, the silence between them a comfortable blanket. When they'd finished, Waverly unfolded the map they'd found a few days earlier — a mess of lines and scribbles that fueled their hope. It was a map to a sanctuary, or so the rumors among the remaining survivors whispered. A place beyond the reach of the curse, a sanctuary from the darkness. Hope was a dangerous thing in Purgatory, but it was all they had left.
"We should head out soon. If we're going to make it to this 'sanctuary,' we need to cover a lot of ground before sunset," Nicole said, her gaze fixing on the unforgiving horizon outside their makeshift shelter.
Waverly nodded, her resolve returning. "We can do this, Nicole. Together, we can do anything," she affirmed, her hand finding Nicole's.
As they stepped out into the ravaged world once more, they did so hand in hand, their spirits intertwined in ways more profound than the chaos that sought to tear them apart. The two figures, silhouetted against the apocalyptic dawn, were more than lovers, more than fighters. They were symbols, the very embodiment of hope, carrying with them the light of a love that refused to be extinguished by the shadows of Purgatory.
And so they walked, leaving behind whispers in ash, stepping forward into a future uncertain but for one undeniable truth: their love would carry them through, or it would carry them nowhere at all.