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Duskfire Glacier free folk - Printable Version

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free folk - Svalla - April 09, 2025


after her loss, the wildling woman set out to the far southern borders of darukaal in search of reprieve. a quiet place to lick her wounds. her steps are heavy as her body aches; bruised but not broken. fresh wounds still stinging as bitter cold bite them, and blood still dry against pallid and ruffled fur. she does not sulk, as she cannot find it within her. instead, she bares the wounds with pride. Faust had claimed his victory, but she had claimed something far greater.

tucked away between crags and boulders lay a hot spring. it's steam rising above pine and stripped oaks, beckoning. it was within those warm waters she rest. letting the bouyancy of the water cradle her, easing the ache in her limbs. soothing the pain she'd shouldered. her fur laps at her sides in whisps, the dampness revealing svelte muscle that she allows to relax as the warmth cocoons her. with a gentle sigh, she allows the weight of the burgeoning war and emotion ink away.

and yet, her guard never lowers. ears turn and twitch at the sound of distant footsteps crunching against snow. with a sigh, she speaks. "you're staring." her tone relaxed, holding no bite as it usually does.



RE: free folk - Faust - April 10, 2025

he had followed her trail, knowing well that svalla would not seek a crowd, nor a salve, nor sympathy. no, she would find stone and solitude. silence. the only things a warrior might trust when the body has been bested but the spirit is still roaring.
and so faust came, the scent of blood on the snow leading him to the steam that rose like a phantom over the crags. he found her there—half-submerged in the misty cradle of the spring, her pale body marbled in old bruises and fresh lacerations. the wildling, calm and silent, curled in the water like a sleeping storm. and yet her eyes were open.
"you’re staring."
his lips twitch, faintly. not a smirk, not quite. more the echo of amusement buried under the solemn mask he wears too often. he steps nearer, though does not yet join her, paws scraping the snow-covered stone. pale eyes trace the slow shift of muscle beneath her damp fur, the steam clinging like silk to her throat. and he knows—knows she is not broken. knows, too, that she had let him win.
a victory given, not stolen.
you looked more feral when you were trying to rip out my throat, he says at last, voice low, roughened by cold and some trace of admiration. his gaze does not waver. ::but i think i like you better this way.:
he sinks down beside the edge of the spring, letting his breath cloud the air between them. no demand. no mockery. just a man, watching a flame cool in water.


RE: free folk - Svalla - April 12, 2025

keen, sharp eyes track his movements. heavy and commanding, his stride unbroken and less burdened. she's searching for the silent claim she'd left upon his skin as he moves closer. blood that has dried, a sight that stirs something left unspoken within her. the wilding does not turn within the pool to greet him; her chin tilts upward, eyelids heavy, eyes calm. the bitter cool a stark contrast to the warmth she bathed in. her lips curl into a fleeting smirk; he would join her, by the end of the night. whether it be by his choice or by her hand.

"is that why you came?" she teases, voice lilted. playful but tranquil. neither of them are fools, and certainly not Svalla. she knows why he came. why he'd followed. but this game is too fun not to play. "for me to bare my teeth again?" a small huff of her amusement, a plume that billows upward with the steam. "lucky for you, i'm not in the mood for round two."

a lie, as there was no doubt the white sparrow could be beguiled into another fight. but it is not violence she craves tonight. finally, after the silence settles, does she turn within the waters embrace to face him.

tonight, she simply wants his company. a pleasure without pain, a peace that cannot last. 

her sigh is serenity as she drapes herself against the wall of the pool. letting the tension ink away from aching muscle. letting the warm waters clean her wounds and clear her mind. her smile, although small, was something genuine. no bite or teeth, no fire and grit. 

"there is room for two." spoken plainly, though there was a veil of wanting she often would not reveal so easily. a need for his presence without a fight that's deep seeded, but not forceful.



RE: free folk - Faust - April 12, 2025

he did not speak at first.
the steam curled around his frame as he stepped into the water, unbothered by the heat nor the woman who lounged in it like a cat content with its kill. blood still clung to his fur in places—hers and his. the faint sting of reopened wounds met the heat, but he bore it with silence, slipping lower until the water crested his shoulders.
her voice, laced with the same fire that once drew his blood, made his ear flick. he did not smirk, though the corner of his mouth twitched—barely. she knew why he came. he would not waste breath pretending otherwise.
you always are. and yet—he did not meet her with teeth. not tonight. he had seen the twitch in her muscles, the way they unraveled into the warmth like old scars finally softened. she would not admit it, but she needed rest.
his gaze slid over to her now, unreadable in its depth. then, with a slow inhale, he shifted closer, settling beside her until their shoulders brushed, his frame anchoring beside hers.
i came to wash the blood off.
and to see if you still bite without your teeth bared.
quiet, almost teasing, but no venom. faust rarely indulged in peace. but with her, for this moment, he would.


RE: free folk - Svalla - April 13, 2025

the water churns with small waves and ripples as Faust misplaced it. carving through the shallow depth until he's settled. the cast of moonlight reflected off the pool's surface now tinged with the ebony of blood. it was a proud feeling that stirs in her chest, knowing that blood belonged not only to him. 

heavy eyes watch a stray patch of his fur, cow-licked and stiff with blood. without hesitation does she lean forward to smooth it down with her hand, before she lets the warm waters claim her again. his words are met with her huff of laughter; gentle, not boastful or taunting. not tonight. 

"i always bite." she hummed in relaxation. it was what she was bred for, what she'd spent countless years running herself ragged for. but then there are moments like these where she isn't a wildling blade, but just...a woman. enjoying the company of a man, enjoying the steam uncoiling svelte muscle.

their shoulders brush. and for a fleeting moment, Svalla allows herself to lean against him. weightless and calm. unbothered by the war, emotions, anything that may ruffle the white sparrow's feathers. "but even i need my rest. as do you." 

because if anything, Faust needed it the most. the fight for the glacier's claim was a constant, never-ending battle. and now, coupled with the war on the horizon? he needs a sliver of peace. and she is happy to share it. 

she watches him for a beat. seeing things that most couldn't, like the slightest slack of his shoulders, or the tufts of unruly fur that never laid flat. and then her eyes slide away to gaze up at the night sky. constellations and stars she'd always found wondrous when she wasn't fighting or biting. 

"what is your plan, when the war is over?" comes her question. not prying, and there is no bite to it. she simply wishes to know what the man is thinking. wants to know what goals drive him to fight so vehemently.



RE: free folk - Faust - April 14, 2025

he doesn’t answer at first.
just sits with her shoulder pressed against his, listening to the churn of water and the low crackle of ice shifting in the distance. steam curls from their backs like ghosts shaken loose from war-worn skin, rising up into stars neither of them dare wish on anymore.
her hand had touched him. smoothed the mess of blood-matted fur without thinking. and that—more than her teasing, more than her fight—makes something stir in him. quiet. deep.
her question lingers.
his gaze lifts toward the horizon, breath drawn deep. long enough that one might think he wouldn’t respond at all. but then:
i’ll take a mate.
the words come low, gravel caught on tongue, shaped by certainty and weariness both. not for softness. not for peace. but for blood. legacy. his eyes narrow faintly, still trained on the dark edge of the glacier. darukaal needs cubs that can outlast the next war. sons and daughters of wolves who don’t break easy.
a pause.
i won’t choose until this is over. don’t have the luxury.
he glances at her then, only briefly. there’s no warmth in it. no cruelty, either. just fact. he sees her strength, her ease here in the steam beside him. but Faust is not a man who chases maybes. not when the world can change with a single blade.
until then—this is enough.
a beat passes, then his shoulder leans a little heavier against hers. not an embrace. not quite. just the weight of a man too tired to speak in riddles.