Sunset Valley mine to hold

I know we already have one unfinished, but @Siofra Hawthorne !!! <33
happens sometime after this

The valley breathed in silence.
Evening had settled softly over the basin, painting long shadows beneath the rustling canopy of deciduous green. The runoff from the twin peaks great white shoulders traced quiet veins through the underbrush, the water cool and clear as it threaded between mossy stones and fern-laden soil. Here, where the glacier’s reach had long since receded, life had flourished in its absence. Birds still called, distant and unbothered, while the wind curled down the slopes in gentle hushes.
Astier moved without haste, but with purpose. The Wraith did not often descend from the higher ridges without cause; but tonight he was not a ghost retreating into snow and stone. His pale form passed beneath the branches like a sliver of moonlight, untouched by the golds and greens around him, yet very much present. The earth here was soft, sun-warmed and alive in contrast to the bitter wind of the heights.
He had not yet seen her, but her scent lingered faint and recent; folded into bark, clinging to the wildflower tufts that dared bloom between roots. His ears turned, catching no sign of her footfalls, but he knew she was not far.
There were things she would need to know.
The glacier had stirred. He had climbed and been tested. And in the wake of the silence that followed, war had taken root upon the horizon. Astier paused beside one of the many creeks, the water dancing over stone. He did not call out; not yet. If she was near, she would find him. And if not... he would wait. As always, patience was his weapon, and tonight, he had reason to wield it.

The fading rays of sun gently caressed the valley, its warmth yielding to the chill of the evening. The song of birds began to settle among the canopies. Maintaining a steady walk, sage eyes briefly scanned her surroundings, searching for the shelter of a fallen oak or surfaced root. Something that could provide protection against the creatures of the night.

Gentle breezes came in waves, dancing with the fragrance of nature. Pollen, rodents, the sap of trees...but among the distinguishable scents drifted notes of something heavier. Not contrasting, no. But it evoked a noticeably different feel in the atmosphere that she otherwise would have ignored.  The loner's alertness was revived, and a new energy began to course through her veins. She knew who it belonged to. And knew that it was not one who belonged to the terrain. Silently, she allowed her paws to carry her forth.

His presence was not something that could easily be denied.

She crept forth to lean against the base of a birch, a hum rising from her throat. "Has the king of glaciers grown tired of the heights?" Siofra's words were carried by the wind, breaking the silence. An amused look veiled her expression as she watched the man from where she stood by the tree line.

A faint chuckle stirred in his chest, brief and dry, like wind sweeping through frozen peaks. Astier’s steps did not pause immediately; he moved with the same deliberate grace as falling snow, measured and sure. His frame cut a silent path between the trees, the last rays of gold brushing across the silver in his coat, casting faint halos over his spine. He walked like someone who belonged to the stillness, a shadow shaped by wind and stone.
Only after a few quiet paces did he slow. His head turned slightly toward her voice, ears swiveling first, then his eyes, cool and glacial, drifting to find her through the dusk-lit trees. The way he looked at her was not sudden, but inevitable, like the slow rise of frost over glass.
Then, he finally faced her, his movements fluid but muted; never hurried. The faintest curve ghosted the corner of his mouth: „Even winter needs to descend the mountain sometimes,” he murmured, voice smooth and low, as though it might blend with the hush of the forest. He stood a breath longer, then stepped toward her with that same poised stillness, each stride calm and controlled, yet edged with the quiet strength of one who did not need to prove it.
„Besides,” he added, „I thought it only fair to inform you of recent events.” He couldn’t quite grasp why he felt compelled to act; she wasn’t of Darukaal, and yet, something unsettled him when he heard Faust refer to her as “his woman.” A fleeting stir in his chest, uncertain and sharp. At the very least, he owed her the truth of what was coming. Astier knew his recent promotion carried its weight; the winds had changed, and Darukaal would soon set its sights on the land of the caribou hunters.
His gaze held hers now, steady as the glacier’s heart: „You may soon hear the sound of war in these trees,” There was no sharpness to the words, but something colder beneath, like frost on stone. When they first met, he advised her to leave, for war was coming. Now, he would do so once more.

His tone spoke of the inevitable.

Siofra played no part in the conflict, she had no right to pry. But she knew that to strive for a world of peace was no more feasible than to touch the heavens above-- something only attainable in dreams and visions. There were paths that only violence could pave. Still, necessity never took away from its weight. She exhaled, her breath curling into the dusk before vanishing in the wraith's wake. He was not cloaked by warmth, but there was a deeply rooted honesty, and it was for that reason that she didn't stand on edge. Parting the grasses, she mirrored his stride forth.

He had given her his warning once. She would not dismiss the risk he took to give her another. Not when she wasn't obligated to one.

"I have no intention to get caught in the crossfire--" Siofra paused at his flank, head tilted to exchange a look. "--If that is your concern."

The lady let her words hang within the air before she moved past the baron, crouching beside the gentle stream. She slowed her movement, head hovered above the surface, her breath lightly rippling the waters. There was a small moment of silence before adding lightly, thoughtfully:  "...You've yet to tell me of this kingdom of yours, Astier."

I apologize its so long, explored some of him <3

Astier remained still as stone, only the gentle shift of his breath betrayed him, silver vapor curling from his muzzle like smoke from a distant fire. The wraith moved with the silence, stepping closer to the water’s edge, each motion deliberate, as if even gravity dared not weigh him down. A shadow cast in frost and thought. His gaze followed the glinting surface, but his mind wandered far from it: a kingdom not carved in ice crept through the corners of his mind. One untouched by bloodshed. Frost throne stood beneath open skies, and at its heart; the wraith and a shadow by his side. Her. A foolish dream, quickly buried.
When he finally spoke, it was low, tempered by cold reason: „Darukaal is strong,” back when they first met, the dark man recognized his scent and briefly mentioned the glacier wolves, „A kingdom of the mountain. We were shaped by cold and hardship… and we do not bend.” Faust was a wise and formidable Kaan, but this; it was not his path. He was no wild northman, no untamed brute driven by impulse, eager to claim women as conquests and scatter his lineage without thought. The blood of the Valerian ran colder than that; measured, dignified, frost-bitten and proud. Though he had not yet earned the right to sire, he knew he would not give himself lightly. Not without bond, not without oath. To him, the act of creating life demanded more than desire; it demanded intention, and marriage was no fleeting vow in his eyes. It was sacred, immutable. And he would not bind himself for anything less.
His gaze lifted from the water, meeting her briefly: „But the winds shift. The caribou hunters wounded one of our own,” his thoughts drifted, fleetingly, to Gjalla and the caribou they once hunted side by side. He could almost taste the metallic rush again; the warm surge of life as his fangs tore into its throat. Soon, that memory would find its mirror in flesh not of beast, but of man. One of the hunters would fall beneath him, and he would drink vengeance as he had once drunk blood. 
„It is only fair they pay for their mistakes. War begins soon,” though his loyalty lay with Darukaal, it was the fall of the Sun Eater that truly steeled his resolve. No man, under any sky, had the right to raise tooth or claw against a woman. That alone marked him as weak; a coward hiding behind strength he did not deserve. And soon, the weight of his sins would crush him, as all brittle things break beneath the force of justice. The wraith turned his head slightly, but did not look away from her. The chill did not touch his stare; it was not warmth that stirred behind it, not exactly. But there was something still there: a curiosity, a pull. Not enough to draw him closer, but enough to make him pause.
„I came to offer a warning. Nothing more.” Was he truly? He caught himself thinking of her while tracing the edges of Darukaal’s claim, pale gaze drifting to every shadow, wondering if she might appear again. Even in the hunt, when the thunder of hooves filled his ears and the copper scent of blood clung to his tongue, her image slipped between the chaos. A silent muse among the snowdrifts. Astier made a quiet note in the recesses of his mind: the next caribou he felled, he would offer its hide to her. A smirk curved his lips, subtle and knowing, as his tail swept once behind him, steady, deliberate, as if moved by a thought he had not yet dared speak aloud.

love to see it C:

So the kingdom in the glaciers sought retaliation. Her mouth lifted from the chill of the stream, listening in silence.

The woman was no stranger to bloodshed. She had once stood at the shoulders of royals, gazing into the eyes of beasts, traitors, outlaws as their lives were forfeited in the name of atonement. She had also been the one to feel the gnash of teeth at her own nape, weighed down, forced to watch as her fate was debated before her eyes. Siofra had witnessed the fire from both sides-- the fire in their leers that consumed all and could not be imitated. The burn for justice.

It remained encased in memory. "There is a deadly passion that's exclusive to vengeance," She spoke coolly, her irises skimming over the reflection in the stream. But surely he knew that. "Your warning is heeded."

And then she turned. Her gaze locked onto his, unblinking, as if she were attempting to fish within the depths of his frigid mind. The man promised her a single motive...but a deeper curiosity loomed beneath like a current under still water. Faintly seen.

He spoke with conviction, assurance-- but uncertainty always crept in the shadows of war. And she couldn't shape her feelings into words. Still...there was something about the wraith that separated him from the other fleeting silhouettes in her mind. Perhaps the thought of losing him to the dance of flames queued her to reach for his mystery, enshrouded by frost. A rare selfishness that she would not admit.

"But descending the mountains to give me a few words," Siofra breathed, her voice edged with skepticism.  "Do you plan to travel in the dark?"