Duskfire Glacier testing my patience

i know we have one but! @Svalla

the chieftain roared.
the wind howled over the glacier, sharp as a knife, cutting through the thick fur along faust’s back. he moved through the icebound silence, his breath curling in the cold, his patience long since worn thin. svalla had pushed too far this time.
heavy steps against the frozen earth as he followed her scent, weaving through the narrow crevices that split the glacier. she had not gone far. the den she had chosen was small, tucked into the ice like some carved-out grave.
his shadow fell over the entrance before he moved inside. she was there, back turned to him, her ivory fur a pale ghost in the dim light. without hesitation, he was on her.
a snarl ripped from his throat as he slammed her against the frozen wall, his paw pressing firm at her throat, pinning her there. his breath was hot against her muzzle, green eyes burning with fury.
are you fucking insane? his voice was low, rough, filled with the kind of anger that meant he had already made up his mind. she had gone too far, and there would be no more warnings.

the rest she so desperately sought after her nights spent on pleasure would be interrupted by a thunderous roar. she hadn't just a moment to even turn to face the mouth of her den when faust was upon her. crushing her beneath his newfound weight and prowess. in a different instance, she would've welcomed it. but this?

his jaws snap, his spit and fury flying. her throat burns as she struggles to gasp for air beneath his punishing touch. she thrashes, managing to turn herself onto her back, her strong hind legs shooting upward, paws landing onto the tautness of his belly. ivory claws digging into flesh, while her hands braces against his shoulders.

fury burned in his eyes; an anger she'd never witnessed. but she did not cower; she would not. with a snarl of her own, her teeth snap just short of his nose, her eyes lit with her own fire. who the fuck was he to interrupt her sleep? what had she done wrong?

his voice booms, near deafening.

"you could have at least said hello," she sneered, voice dripping with sardonic intent. he thought she would fear him?

"what the fuck are you on about, faust?" svalla growled, though winded. was he that jealous, that angry that she had slept with another man? or was this something else? "this better be worth my fucking time."

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faust snarled, his teeth flashing white against the dimness of the den, breath hot and ragged as she dug into him, her claws biting through the flesh of his belly. pain sparked through him, but it did nothing to dull the rage roaring in his chest.
worth your fucking time his voice was a growl, incredulous, as if she had spat in his face. his grip on her throat did not falter, even as she kicked against him, her fire meeting his head-on. he had seen her angry before—seen her reckless, seen her defiant—but this was different.
fucking hell, you have no idea— his breath heaved, nostrils flaring as he stared down at her. no idea what you've done.
he wrenched her down against the frozen ground, a cruel shove, something to remind her of her place beneath him. faust was not a jealous man. he had no right to claim her, and he never had. but he had built darukaal from nothing—bled for it, fought for it. and she had just put it all in jeopardy.
traipsing into pack territory and fucking a pack wolf? his snarl cut through the small space, reverberating against the icy walls. his muscles coiled beneath her hands, his frame taut with something far more dangerous than rage. do you know what it took to secure an alliance with those beasts? with her?
ayovi. her name alone burned his tongue.
and you simply float above it, don't you? wildling brat. his voice was steel, green eyes cutting into hers like a blade. you are not a fucking child anymore.
his paw pressed harder for just a moment before he released her entirely, shoving back and away from her, chest rising and falling in measured fury. he should not have come here. should not have given her this much of his energy, his strength.
you make me fucking sick. sick! i built this from nothing: nothing! and you let it topple so you could get your sorry cunt filled.
but fuck, she had no idea what damage she had just done.

cameo!

in the distance, he is there. lone sentinel of black to watch, to perceive, to observe. he had shadowed the man halfway and stopped here, watched as faust flew into his stupor of fury, launched himself upon her den in assault. his teeth grit all the while, ears perked upwards, pitched so that he could hear what went on.
insolence was often the waterfall which came before life and death. svalla had given insolence a new meaning. now, she must learn. this was not their way anymore. she must leave behind the chaos of the wildlands and embrace the new. there was law in these lands.
blackfell's chin raises, he feels the wind as it whips through his coarse fur. cruel red eyes narrowing upon the scene that unfolds in the far distance, standing by in quiet brooding.

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This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: language

his words are barbs that puncture deep, twisting and seething hot. the ferocity is something she had never witnessed from him, a man so typically cold and muted. perhaps it is why it instills her with something venomous. she does not flinch as he barks and raises his voice, her lips curling with a sneer. did he not think of her to have the audacity to snap back?

she does not understand what she had done that was so damning. but it does not matter; she would not allow him to speak to her as if she was his bitch to keep leashed. she was not his, and he had made it glaringly obvious.

"what i have done?" she snarls. the wildling spirit inside of her thrashing beneath her skin, refusing to be subdued. she would not submit. "the audacity never fails to amaze me. you are a fool!" was he truly foolish enough to not see he had started this all, the moment he took that whore and embarrassed her?

the shove winds her for a moment. she skids against cold hard ice, but it takes her only a moment to rise again, her wrath scrawled plainly across her face. the man she'd slept with apart of a pack she couldn't give two shits about; this is what angers him? some alliance she had not known of?

"how was i supposed to fucking know?" her voice pitches something violent. "that you bowed down to some bitch and allowed her to trample over you?" for what? an alliance? had he forgotten that the north does not fucking kneel? and of course it was a woman. it's always a fucking woman with him. it is was makes her furious.

and you let it topple so you could get your sorry cunt filled. her ears ring. her vision goes red with a rage she hadn't felt since he left all those years ago. she crashes against his side with a wildling snarl, her jaws snapping, itching to sink her teeth into his flesh. to wound him the same way he'd just wounded her.

"say it again," she seethes. "you fucking coward! you are no different, throwing yourself at any whore that bats their eyes at you!"

faust barely had time to brace before she crashed into him, her body slamming against his side with a snarl that rang like thunder in the icy cavern. her teeth snapped close—too close—the heat of her breath searing against his fur, her rage a wildfire catching fast in the cold.
but he did not falter.
he pivoted sharply, meeting her momentum with his own, shoving her back with brute force, his body a wall of power against her reckless fury. his breath curled white in the frigid air, his teeth flashing in something like amusement, something like madness.
i'm the fool? he barked out a laugh, short, biting, like the crack of ice beneath weight too heavy to bear. peace in the north. that is what they desire, what i desire, and yet you walk over it!
his voice rose, filled the cavern, a force of nature as relentless as she was.
they wanted to kill you.
his words struck sharp, cutting like the wind outside. his chest heaved, nostrils flaring, green eyes burning like embers. do you get it, yet? they wanted to kill you!
you're alive because of me, because of the shit i cleaned up, he scoffed, nearly laughing again at the sheer absurdity of it. the way she refused to see beyond herself, beyond her own goddamn pride. she was in heat—i do not have to explain shit. you are a grown woman, are you not?
he stepped forward, closer, his voice dropping lower now, threading through the tension like a knife. the cold did nothing to smother the heat that pulsed between them, that had always burned even when they had both pretended otherwise.
are you, svalla?
the air between them was electric, his body so close now, towering over hers. his breath was warm against her muzzle, his gaze unyielding, unwavering. his anger was a living thing, but beneath it, something else coiled, something darker, something neither of them would ever name.

"peace? what is it you have done, for a woman to beg you for peace?" came her sharp rebuttal. still too stubborn to see her wrongs, still too blinded by her pride to understand. always too prideful, always the wildling girl who bit first and asked later. 

their bodies meet with force that could move mountains. svalla grunts at the impact; he is stronger than she remembered. her paws scattering across the ice and snow, struggling to find her footing. and yet, he does not bite her. 

instead, he does worse. words so sharp and tempered. steel of the north wounding deep and true. cutting through her delusion of the life she had once lived, and thought she could continue. each a blow that hits harder than the last. 

she snarls, the inferno within reaching its feverish pitch. flames that lick so high and could not be extinguished. she's so angry—isn't that what's always driven her? or was it the pride she never swallowed? the very pride he is threatening to dismantle again.

they wanted you dead, faust roared. the prideful part of her wants to lash back, to scream that she would not fear death by their hands. 

but oh, didn't she? to die, would be to fail. to die, would be to lose. not only herself, but faust. and isn't he what she is here for? what she had traveled for months to find? 

she hates this. hates that he's making too much sense. hates that he's making her feel like the child she remains to be, although her pride would not allow it. 

she hates that he is right. she remembers his words, from the first time he'd lost his temper on her. i am no longer the kind man you once knew. it was true, and she could no longer pretend that faust was a version of himself she wanted him to be. 

her anger morphs into grief. those snarls morph into something softer, pained. tears that threaten to fall cloud her version, and for so long, she had not let them. her pride had not. 

but now, she had to set it aside. she had to swallow it and admit she is wrong. even if it feels sacrilegious. because if she was to give up the girl she was...who is she? who is the woman she should be? pride was her motivator. 

without it, she would have nothing.

blurry, cold eyes shift to meet his. he's so close, but not in the way she wants. she exhales a frustrated yell, her ears pinned. tail finally resting at her hind. she does not fight. 

"i am," she hisses. as if speaking the words physically wound her. "i am! you just—" she pushes away from him, lips curling. turning her head away in case those traitorous tears decided to fall. not because she's sad, but because she's livid. 

"i keep wishing you're the boy i knew. but you are not." she exhaled, sides heaving. "and it fucking angers me that i do not know you!"

many things, svalla.
his voice was a quiet storm, thick with all that could not be spoken. the past, the weight of it, the things they had both lost.
her fire had never frightened him, not when they were cubs, not when she threw herself at the world with teeth bared. but now—now it burned in a way that singed him through.
she thrashed in his hold, and he did not let go. instead, he pulled her closer. tighter. until the heat of her fury tangled with his own, until there was no space left between them.
you think i do not wish to be a cub again? his breath was ragged, sharp between his teeth, but his hold remained steady. chasing our tails and butting heads?
he wanted to shake her, to make her see.
you are not alone in your grief, svalla!
his voice cracked with the force of it, roaring through the cold, through the ice and the distance she still tried to place between them.
you are not!
his muzzle dipped, breath hot against the frigid air as he pressed his nose to her chest—a moment’s surrender, a single beat of something tender amidst the wreckage. a kiss, but not one of romance. one of remembrance. of who they had been, who they still were.
i am the boy you knew.
his voice dropped to something quieter, something raw.
i am right here.

the grip these two have on me needs to be studied.

she chokes on a breath that threatened to leave her as a sob. she could not remember the last time she'd allowed herself to cry, let alone weep in front of another. wildling ways had carved themselves into her bones. 

wildlings simply did not cry. and she shouldn't. she tries to will it away, to clench her teeth and blink away the tears the threaten to fall and stain her ghastly cheeks. 

but then faust speaks of the grief he'd felt, and the dam inside of her breaks. at first, it is a single tear that glides down the pillow of her fur. and then there's more. a faucet that would not stop. 

would he think her weak for crying? 

she gets her answer in the form of his closeness, the kiss he presses to her chest. the way she cranes her chin downward so their foreheads may rest together, her pale eyes closing. a shuddered exhale, a small, vulnerable smile. 

a smile only he could see, for she would smite anyone else for witnessing vulnerability that had no room to breathe. 

"i was so angry with you." came her soft whisper. voice thick with emotion and conviction. "i hated you. and when i found you again, i convinced myself that times would be the same. that we would be the same." 

she swallows, nuzzles their foreheads harder together. to ground herself. "but i have been a fool, faust. i am scared of that change." because what if this new, grown Faust had no place for her in his life? 

as a woman who put on the mask of fearing nothing, she feared this. "i do not know where i belong in your life, and that frightens me. i am selfish."

i know, faust murmured, voice low, raw. i have been angry too. for a long time.
his breath was slow, controlled, but inside him, something cracked. he could hear the way her voice wavered, could feel the way her body shook beneath the weight of emotions neither of them had ever learned how to carry.
her tears—svalla’s tears—fell, real, unchecked. something he had never seen from her before. something he never thought he would.
and it did not make her weak.
it made her real.
he let her lean into him, let their foreheads rest together, let her feel him there. not as baskaan, not as the leader of darukaal, but as faust. the boy she had once known. the man he had become.
his muzzle brushed hers, soft, grounding, a silent reassurance.
you are svalla sundén, he said, quiet but firm, white sparrow of hrafnvaengr. and that will never change.
no matter what had happened. no matter how the years had pulled them apart, reshaped them, turned them into something unfamiliar.
you may fuck who you please.
the words were an effort, a lie he wanted to believe. his throat tightened, his jaw clenched—but he forced himself to say them.
but it must be within this glacier or a bastard with no claim.
because it wasn’t about jealousy. it was about loyalty. about what they were trying to build. about keeping her safe, about keeping darukaal from shattering under the weight of reckless choices.
his chest rose and fell beneath her, his warmth steady against hers. he let silence stretch between them, let her breathe, let her grieve.

he spoke of her name—wildling surname included. gave her the moniker of white sparrow. it helped glue the fractured sense of self she'd been grappling with. gone was the facade she presented to the world.

a smile, sad and soft in only the way faust could mold it, graces her. eyes of ice no longer filled with such hatred, with such cruelty. she was not the same wildling woman she once was, and that was okay. 

she would be better. stronger. still the proud and wildfire of a woman, but less driven by her raging pride. it had caused enough damage, in the name of hurt. of jealousy. 

"you are the only man who's ever known the true me." she murmured. hushed, reverent. thick with truth and an affection she would not hide. "thank you. for helping me see." 

she'd been blind for so long, and she'd already caused so much damage. damage that had been outside of her realm of care; damage she cared not for the consequences of. 

and yet now, she is strong enough to admit her wrong doings. to feel the weight of what she has done crashing down upon them. crashing down upon faust. 

she met his statement with a snort, a curl of her lips, a shake of her head. "you are still a fool." she mused. that was not her wish, that was not her desire. it never had been, she'd just been...driven by her own jealousy. 

but he is her fool, even if he does not know it. 

with a resolute sigh, she would not let her tears fall any longer. now was the time for rebirth. to build her new self, alongside darukaal and faust. to right her wrongs. "i will fix the mess i made." she promised. and then, with a smile, she added; 

"i always knew one day you'd make a fine ruler."

he exhaled.
a slow, measured thing. something meant to steady him, to quiet the war in his chest, the weight of what had passed, what had yet to come.
but then she smiled—soft, sad, the kind of thing that had always been meant for him, even when she had sworn she hated him.
and he could breathe again.
his green eyes held her own, and there was something different there now, something raw, something aching but not broken. not anymore. she had been lost. she had been blind. but now she stood before him, whole.
svalla sundén. white sparrow of hrafnvaengr.
he had not realized how much he had missed saying her name, had missed knowing who she was—not just the wildfire woman who raged against the world, but the girl he had always known. the girl she was finally ready to be again.
but faust had always known her. always.
[inent]her gratitude settled between them, warm, fragile, something he would tuck away where no one else could touch it.
her snort broke the moment, and his lip curled in something almost like amusement, the ghost of something lighter pressing at the edges of his features.
he huffed, shaking his head, but he did not argue. he had been many things. fool included. but she had always been his greatest mistake and his greatest triumph.
"i will fix the mess i made."
a promise.
one he believed.
because svalla was many things, but she had never been a liar.
he did not speak, only watched as something unspoken passed between them—something old and sacred, something that did not need words.
and then she smiled again. brighter this time, more like her.
he scoffed, but it was a quiet thing. softer. fond.
then you’ve always been smarter than me.