Duskfire Glacier northbound

tags for mentions/visibility!

@Gjalla had been true to her word. she'd led svalla away from where she'd crashed into blackfell, further north where thick pines slowly gave way to nothing but tundra. her heart still burned with rage; she wouldn't forget blackfell's cowardliness anytime soon, but other matters were more important. the moment they stepped foot onto the glacier, she'd smelled him. his scent marks, coupled with the pikes placed around the borders. rotting heads sat atop the spikes; a warning. she sneered. it seemed like he'd carried at least one tradition from hrafn here.

she stood tall as they rolled to a stop, head swinging to regard the stormy woman beside her. they hadn't talked much, if at all, but she was aware that Gjalla had a fire inside of her, too. whatever rift she caused between the woman and her cowardly man, she did not care. blackfell had it coming, and for this she would not apologize. she would not chase the bastard down again.

"thank you." she murmured toward gjalla. it was all she would receive from the wildling woman.

turning her eyes forward, she inhaled a sharp breath. breathed it out into a song; calling upon @Faust, should the bastard be listening. a storm of emotion waged inside of her, as she wasn't sure if she'd meet him with tooth and claw as she did to his cousin, or if her sorrow would win against her rage.

his ears twitch to the sound before he even registers it. a call, thin and distant on the wind—too familiar. too sharp. like the memory of a wound long since scarred over, but never quite healed.
faust answers it before he thinks better of it. broad paws break the snow, his heavy frame carving a path down from the glacier’s spine. the wind catches the edges of his coat, pulling at him, warning him. and yet, he goes.
and when he sees her, when the shape sharpens from ghost to flesh, when the scar flashes pale across her nose bridge—
he stops.
the world narrows. shrinks. there’s only her.
his breath leaves him in a silent exhale, visible on the frigid air. there is no anger, no violence, no clashing of teeth as there might have been once. there’s just disbelief, weighted in the pit of his chest.
svalla?
her name drags from his throat like it was never meant to leave his mouth again. so many nights he’d thought of her lost to the dispersion— he thought she would follow, but...
but here she stands.
alive.
and everything he'd built since feels, for the briefest moment, as fragile as the snow beneath his feet.

for a moment, as she stands within silence only broken by wild northern winds, she wonders if he'd even come. it'd been years since they last were together. had he forgotten? had she a place in his mind still, even after all this time, as he held one within hers?

the thought is bitter acid on her tongue. a knife that twists. if he would not come to her, she would find him. she would track him down through the depths of hell if needed.

but then there's a figure over the horizon. black, back-lit by the sun, before it moves closer. her heart twists and aches as she stares up at the boy she once knew, now grown into a rugged man. a commanding one. a true wildling, should he have stayed at home. their kin...they would be so proud.

she expected to feel bitter rage. she expected to clash blades with him, same as blackfell, or perhaps even worse. because while blackfell's disappearance stung, faust's nearly undid her. he was the one who'd taken a piece of herself with him on his leave. the child within her rouses, and threatens to put a heavy chink in the armor she'd crafted after so many years.

as blackfell had bluntly stated, they were not children anymore. she would not let him see the sorrow she still carried. she was strong now, strong than she'd ever been...

but he utters her name with such conviction it hurts. 

something dances within her eyes for a only a moment, before her armor hides it.

"you've grown." she spoke, voice clipped. she moved closer, circling him. assessing him. he wasn't the same gangly teenage boy she used to beat in spars, but a true northman. her lip curls; she must act disgusted, less she reveal the attraction that once fueled the fire in her veins as children. 

"and you left. to claim a fucking glacier, no less." she spat, her tail lashing with irritation. "and all you can think to say to me, after all this time, is my name? you disappoint me, faust."

his gaze drinks her in, unblinking. a ghost. a fever-dream from years long buried beneath snow and silence. he does not hear the bite in her words, nor feel the lash of her tail. not yet. not until later, when the wind has died and the ache she left in his ribs returns to throb.
right now, it is her face—sharp as he remembers, sharper still, honed by time and loss. she spits venom like she always did, and gods, he missed it.
his voles fall forgotten at his feet, scattering like leaves. slow as the dusk tide, he steps forward, heavy paws pressing into the frost. when she circles him, he turns with her, eyes tracking every movement as though she might vanish if he dared blink.
and then, wordless, he reaches.
scarred paws cup her face, rough as the mountain, trembling in the barest way. his nose drops to press to her temple, dragging slow to the hollow beneath her ear, where her scent still clings. primal. familiar. home.
you're alive. it falls from him like an exhale, like something sacred. no clever words. no excuses. just the truth of it, raw and aching and full of quiet relief.
he pulls back just enough to look at her, evergreen eyes searching her hardened expression, trying to find the girl she used to be beneath the woman she's become. but it's all there. all of her.
and i disappoint you. he huffs, almost smiling, though it's more breath than sound. good. means some things never changed.
his thumbs drag down her cheeks, reluctant to let go. gods above, he'd missed her. missed this. the only piece of the old world left.
tell me you're staying.

in the blink of an eye, simply because of that touch so reverent, her anger melts away. the ice that surrounded her heart, forged by the northern winds and wilds, thaws. she should be furious! she should bite at that paw. feel the bone crush beneath the pressure of her jaws. she should inflict him with the same pain he'd plagued her with, when he left.

but gods, she can't. not when he's looking at her like that; the same way he used to look at her when they were foolish kids. that look that she always couldn't resist, and she still could not. a woman strong and fearless now, melting away into nothing. it's written all over her typically stoic face. she missed that touch. it's evident in the way she greedily leans into it, the way her breath subtly hitches.

her heart throbs. and she can't decide if she hates it.

"we evade death, time and time again." she murmured, her voice no longer cold and bitter. but something softer; something just for him. she'd simply been too stubborn to die. she couldn't die, not before she found him again. 

her ears pin, her lips tugging into a frown. she turns away from his gaze, as she fears it'll bring the emotion she tried so hard to hide to the surface. she's still angry, but it now takes the form of hurt. raw and laid out for him to witness. "everything changed when you left." i changed. "hrafn is not the same." and it would never be the same without him.

her frown curls into a sneer, one born out of sorrow. of pain. "why didn't you take me with, faust? you left without a goodbye. didn't i deserve at least that?" gods knew she would've followed. in a heartbeat, she would have left beside him. home was not the same without him, this much she's come to know.

he asks for her to stay. she exhales a small, humorless laugh. "you are still a fool. i did not travel this far just to leave." she faces him again, something incredulous in her pale eyes. "but if you leave me again, i will kill you." she says it with a ghost of a smile.

he breathes deep, long enough that the cold wind fills his lungs and anchors him where he stands. it holds him still against the weight of her words, the weight of his own failures pressing heavy across his broad shoulders. there is no defense. no excuse that could make it right. only the truth, as bitter as it tastes on his tongue.
i had to go, faust says at last, voice low, as if admitting it aloud could change anything. as if it might soothe the wound he'd left behind in her chest, the one he'd felt in his own heart every damn day since.
stepfather was not kind on me when i matured. his jaw tightens, the memory of those long, harsh seasons flashing in his mind. the bruises. the commands. the quiet hatred that brewed in the dark corners of their home.
he exhales hard through his nose, turning his face away from the mountains, from the past that still clings like frost to his fur, and back to her. back to svalla. the only thing that ever made hrafn worth anything.
i would've taken you, his voice roughens, cracking at the edges like old ice. but i was just a boy. i couldn't fight him. not then. regret cuts deep, sharp and unrelenting. he carries it like a scar, unseen but always there. you deserved more.
watching her now, leaning into his touch like that, like maybe part of her still forgives him— gods, it nearly undoes him.
and yet, here she is. standing in front of him. unbroken. fierce as the day he left her behind. more than he deserves, and still she stays.
her threat earns the faintest hint of a grin, tired and crooked. you always did know how to keep me in line. his paw shifts to press against her shoulder, grounding, warm. i have already tried, no? the promise is quiet. but real. never again.
he glances toward the glacier, where darukaal waits, then back to her. come home with me. and this time, this time, he means it.

his stepfather. svalla's blood boils upon the mention of him. the sour memories of her witnessing his harsh touch and words toward faust. he was only a child, but was scrutinized as an adult. punished as if he was grown. 

she remembers the storm clouds that would often hang over her old friend. how tumultuous he often was, how only she could soothe him. if she would've been stronger, if she would have been better...she would have killed the bastard who dared hurt him. 

she would've left his corpse to rot and be licked clean by buzzards. but, alas, wilding children were expected to respect their elders. to bend the knee blindly. to sit and take whatever they gave. 

the realization that he wanted so badly to take her, but he simply could not...

gods above, she's spent so long hating him. hating the memories they had together, all of the time spent side by side. inseparable. she hated that, at one time, she might have thought him as her soulmate. her second half. 

guilt eats away at her now. she'd been so blind as a naive child...blinded by her own hurt to have not seen his. she should have protected him, they way they promised to protect one another all those years ago. 

"i know," she murmured. her own hand came to caress his cheek, digits running soothingly against the scar that runs beneath his chin. "and i would have come. hrafnvaenger...it was not home. not with you gone."

a soft admission, a glimpse of the girl she once was. silk turned to tempered northern steel. but faust...he saw through it all. he was the only man who'd made her feel seen. understood. 

laughter leaves her then, a sound so unfamiliar now to her own ears. it feels...natural, with him. "someone has to keep you in line. i am not sure if it is by fortune or curse that that someone must be me." she mused, teased. 

pale eyes of ice followed where he glanced; toward his glacier. come home with me. 

she grins. something sharp, playful, as she whisks away. "we race, like old times. try to keep up, yes?" boastful her tone, before she's taking off, tearing through the snow with powerful grace.

he watches her go with a snort through his nose, like some grizzled old warhound who's too tired for games—except he's not. not when it's her. not when it's svalla tearing through the snow, her laughter slicing clean through the cold like spring breaking over the ice. gods, he'd missed that sound. missed her.
you never could outrun me, he calls after her, already lunging forward with heavy paws pounding against the frozen ground. his legs stretch long, muscles rolling beneath his thick coat, the breath steaming from his mouth as he falls into the chase.
it feels like childhood again. the years peel away as easily as the wind cuts over the glacier, and for a moment, just a moment, he's not faust of darukaal, not the chieftain, not the man with ghosts stitched into his spine.
he's just the boy chasing the only girl who ever understood him.
he pushes harder, coming up on her flank, grinning like the bastard he is. and when i win, wildling, he huffs between breaths, you'll owe me a night by the fire. telling me what you’ve been doing all these damn years.

"oh but i could best you in a fight! have you forgotten already?" svalla goaded him with a sharp grin and a swaying tail as she galloped across snow. always competitive—always has been—but a part of he did not care to win. 

she had found him, and that was enough. 

her sharp eyes, filled with a warmth tailored for only him, roved over faust as he quickly joined her side. he'd changed so much, and yet beneath the newfound muscle and scars, she could still see the boy from all those years ago. 

veering her steps, she bumps their shoulders together with a grin. "there is much to tell, king of the glacier. all in due time!" with a burst of speed, she soars forward, as agile and swift as she once was. 

"but for now we run!" her voice bellowed. her steps leading her toward her new home.

he snorted, rough and amused, the sound sharp against the wind as he thundered after her.
you? best me? his voice was gruff, dark as the frostbitten peaks they raced toward. svalla, you barely keep your legs under you.
still, he didn’t push past her. didn’t claim the lead, though he could have—should have. the urge simmered beneath his ribs, the old fire stoked by her teasing grin, by the glint in her eye that no distance or time could dull. but like hell he'd outpace her now.
she was here. that was victory enough.
keep running then, he growled, though the words softened at the edges, warmer than he meant them to be. show me if you're worth keeping.
and when she surged forward, sleek and untouchable, faust just watched her for a breath too long.
then he followed, silent and steady, his heavy steps trailing hers, as he always had.