Duskfire Glacier guard

the cold bit deep, but faust moved through it like a beast born of the ice.
the scent of blood clung thick to his coat, fresh from the kill. dragging behind him, heavy and cumbersome, was an oxen’s thigh, its meat still warm despite the tundra’s grasp. he had torn it from the beast himself, jaws locked onto sinew until it had snapped free. a prize for his hunt. a gift for her.
he had been gone for some time, scouting, searching. their land—his land—needed knowing. and so he had walked it, traced its edges with quiet determination. but now he returned.
when he came upon @Satori, his pace slowed, breath curling from his lips in thick plumes. he stopped just short of her, dropped the offering at her paws with a dull thud.
eyes flickered, searching her face, measuring. then, in that rough, unceremonious way of his, he spoke:
eat.

Faust would find the forest woman where she spent most of her days, free from the ice beneath the evergreen canopy. Half the lavender gathered earlier was arranged in a delicate bundle at the entrance of a small bolt hole, the rest Satori now carried inside to line her nest as she slept when a thud drew her attention.

"Faust!" a smile as she eyed the fresh haunch, giving her pelt a shake to remove any stray dirt from her foray underground. "You've been busy. How's the glacier treating you?" It was nice here, she had convinced herself; she was hunted for, cared for - what more could she want? A muffled thank you as she feasted, guessing the man had already eaten his fill.

his gaze lingered on the bundle of lavender, the careful way she had arranged them. it was... delicate, intentional. he did not understand the purpose, but it was hers, and so he asked, what are you doing with the flowers?
he did not sit right away, simply watching her, as if committing the moment to memory. the contrast of her against the wild green, the soft fragrance that mixed with the iron tang of meat.
yes, he answered simply, after a pause. the glacier was vast, untouched in a way that pleased him. it will do.

She had not expected him to ask of her handiwork, used to the men of the mountain being too rugged, too...stoic for such a matter. Satori did not answer at first, swallowing a mouthful in mild surprise as she nodded along to their small-talk. Turning to delicately clutch a stem in her jaws, she presented the flower to Faust so that he may better appreciate its scent.

The true reason behind her forage weighed heavy on her. The spirits would listen, of course they would, but there was a stark difference in confiding with a man of her own flesh and blood than there was the whimsy of the wind. It meant something, more. "Lavender. It's soothing to the mind." There was shyness to her words, though no shame. "Have you ever had nightmares, Faust?"

he blinked, watching as she offered him the flower. lavender. a small thing, delicate. he leaned in, inhaling its scent, though his expression did not shift much in response. soothing to the mind, she said.
her next question made him pause. nightmares.
his jaw tensed, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might not answer at all. but then— yes.

Again came that nagging feeling as though Satori might have overstepped an unspoken boundary, but she had come to learn that this was simply Faust. He was a man of few words, seeking to express more through acts of service than any means one might describe as conventional. 

And when he finally answered, her gaze studied his face for any clue to how the revelation might be affecting him, but found no answer. "Me too," she offered in return, expression interested but not surprised. Satori would not pressure him to elaborate, allowing him space as she returned to her meal though she could not help but be curious. It was an all too familiar sight.

faust blinked at her admission, the quiet weight of her words settling between them like the hush of snowfall. me too.
he should have expected it. satori had that same look in her eyes, the one that came with knowing things most did not, with carrying burdens that never quite settled.
he did not press her, just as she did not press him. instead, he watched her eat, the steady rhythm of her movements grounding in a way he didn’t expect.
they ever go away? he asked finally, voice low, almost thoughtful. it wasn't a question he often voiced aloud, but satori had a way of making him ask things he normally wouldn’t.

There was much to unravel with Faust, and the druid felt like she had only just scratched the surface. Moreso because that's all he offered her, though his next question began to crack at his stony exterior.

She could be nice, or she could be honest. "I don't know," Satori chose the latter. Perhaps the glacier man wanted to be told that everything would get better, but truly she wished not to lie to him that way. "Some nights they are worse, others I sleep like a pup again.

It helps to talk about them though, if you'd like." What haunted his dreams, she wondered, what had he seen?

faust is quiet. his breath is steady, the rise and fall of his chest measured, controlled. but there is a shift in his posture, a tension in the way his shoulders sit, the way his gaze sharpens as it drifts across the icefield.
i don't want to be my father.
it is spoken low, gruff—like it is something that should not be said aloud, something that has clawed at his throat for too long.
that's the nightmare.
his ears flick, but he does not look at her. he exhales sharply through his nose.
some men are meant to be fathers. some men are only meant to make them.
his voice is edged with something hard, something bitter. but it softens, only slightly, when he finally shifts his gaze to her.
i don't know what kind i am yet.

Her gaze lingered over his figure, assessing the way his breath was calm though the bulge of muscles betrayed his discomfort. A tough thing it was to admit, a chink in the armour that Faust had so carefully built. Satori could admire his courage.

Teeth work the final meat from bone, a mundane backdrop of noise so that he may not feel so alone in his confession. And she listened. "I can't speak for someone I do not know," the druid began quietly, sunflower eyes meeting his own. "But the fact you are aware of what you do not want to become, is already victory in itself, no?"

A gentle probe, this time. "Do you want children, Faust?"

his gaze lingers on the horizon, watching where the ice meets the sky, endless and unchanging.
he thinks about her words, about the weight of them, about what they mean. he doesn’t know if he agrees, not fully, but he nods once.
thank you. it is gruff, but not unkind.
her next question makes him pause.
children.
his mother had them. his father had them. too many, scattered like seeds on the wind, left to grow wild or wither away, forgotten.
he shifts his weight, considering.
i don’t think it matters to me, he finally says. if it makes her happy, then fine.
because in the end, that’s all he wants. a wife who is happy. everything else is secondary.

His thanks was appreciated, seen in the soft smile that lifted her features then. "Anytime." It seemed he had taken her words to heart, if the nod of his head was anything to go by. She wondered what kind of a father had led Faust to fear for his own becoming.

Cut short by his next words, head tilting to catch his indifference. Satori would be lying if she said she'd never thought of children before, with him - maybe, her cheeks flushed. But he was not her mountain man, and she had a terrible habit of chasing things she could not have. Not to mention, she didn't fancy herself wife material. "What about your happiness?" 

faust shrugs, the movement lazy. his green eyes flick toward her, studying, measuring, before he exhales through his nose.
i am happy, he says, voice low, even. can't you tell?
his lips twitch, the ghost of a smirk threatening to form but never quite landing. he tilts his head, considering her for a moment longer before he shifts his weight, glancing away toward the snow-covered stretch of the glacier.
happiness isn't complicated. his voice is gruff, matter-of-fact. i got food. i got purpose. i got— he stops himself, but the implication lingers between them, unspoken. he shakes his head, that same lazy indifference returning. that's enough for me.
he turns his gaze back to her, waiting. waiting for her to argue, to push, to prod. waiting to see if she believes him.

Could she tell?

Laughter bubbled, wasn't it obvious? "I have barely seen you smile," the truth, though her tone held no bite. Simply put, she enjoyed the irony of it all. 

Satori followed his gaze then, to the glacier of their home as she contemplated her own happiness. While it was not the terrain she was used to, she could learn to like it. And if not the ice, the company at least, however stony it may be. 

"You have food, you have purpose," she summarised, lingering briefly on his omission but unable to discern what it was he wished to hide. Perhaps it was that simple. Perhaps she was overcomplicating it. "But happiness isn't just about having enough. It's about feeling enough too.

Joy, connection - you deserve more than just the basics." Hell, everyone did.

faust hummed low in his throat, something short of amusement, short of agreement.
maybe.
he let the silence sit between them, heavy and full of words he did not know how to say. she spoke as if happiness was a thing one could collect, as if it could be built and measured the same way a man might count his kills or his provisions.
but it wasn’t. it was fleeting, a thing carried by the wind. something that brushed past him, warm and promising, only to vanish when he reached for it.
he glanced at her, at the quiet certainty in her voice.
i have enough, he said, and maybe that was the truest thing he had ever spoken. because he had shelter. he had food. he had a purpose carved into his bones.
but feeling enough? that was something else entirely.

Her words were met with quiet, contemplative perhaps though his face betrayed nothing. For a moment, she sat and studied the scars that littered his dark muzzle, wondering where each had come from. From his father, or a war he did not speak of yet - the possibilities tugged at her heart.

But he was resolute in his conclusion, and Satori's lips drew tighter, his voice a statement as if to convince himself more than anything. I have enough. "Good." She would not press further.

Turning to leave, the druid first shoved a sprig of lavender towards the man with an invitational wag of her tail. "For you - I have plenty to spare."

faust eyed the sprig of lavender in her grasp, then back to her face, searching for something unspoken. whatever he found there—if anything—was his alone to hold.
he took it, rough-hewn paw curling around the delicate stem, though his expression remained impassive. for a man so cold, so unyielding, the contrast of soft floral between his teeth was almost comical. but he did not laugh.
instead, he gave a small nod, tilting his head towards the lake in silent invitation.
come, he said, voice low, firm.
and with that, he turned, leading her through the ice-bitten path, the frozen air swirling in quiet between them. whatever lay unspoken, whatever thoughts drifted beneath their skins, they would remain where words dared not trespass.

fade? :)