Blackfeather Woods your beauty makes them weak

i tried tho cuz your posts are always fantastic and worth it <3

his eyes held her, the motions of his body easy beneath his heavy pelt. from where had he come? some northern beast; some thrall carved from cold stone and dark ice. and yet there was warmth here, in the glances of his eyes. firmly he pledged to shed blood for the wood, and it settled some part of relmyna she had not realized was in flux. a whisper; wind brushing the feather along her cheek once more. the priestess was here to listen while the tundra warrior spoke, but as she listened, a sensation of gratitude for his presence in blackfeather swam up. 
the minute movements of his form were of interest to her, if for no other reason than it gave her brief bits of data about who he was as an individual. she understands there are many ways to worship, the listener murmured silently, seeking to reassure wintersbane. after all, had he not come to provide service to the altar? and this was their second meeting here. what work was that than the hand of an unseen god?
relmyna, liasion for the daedric deities as she might be, was still a woman. therefore she was not impervious to how the nightglow had played along the ripple of sharp guard hairs, nor the cold look in his eye: the expression of a guardian as he gave to her his stony word, a promise she heard as the man had meant it. as if delayed, the flush at his earlier smile came now; she was annoyed with herself, with the quickening cadence of her heart and the blood beating warm beneath her winter-thickening pelage, with the way she could not quell these things within her.
he is just a man, the listener hissed at the unbecoming, girlish bauble of feeling. how many men had looked upon her? how many had found her wanting? or considered her desirable? it was a misread, relmyna decided, finding solace in the thought: some loneliness flaring in her soul had projected a subconscious want, and the nuance of wintersbane's gaze was not what she had thought it to be. 
insisting upon this firmly to herself — and he was young, larger than her but with a peaking of youth that had long left her own body — the listener at last steeled her own shameful cravings and was able to look upon his countenance with only a small sensation moving low in her awareness, a roil she could not control but would not indulge. 
intrigued, touched that he had gone out into the wild and attempted to bring back wolves for blackfeather, relmyna's scarred lips curved in a smile. the gods lead worthy joiners here. they brought you, she added in spite of herself, wanting to retract the words but letting her gaze settle upon his stormblue eyes once more.
he had turned to her for instruction; she saw fit to give it, and did so in a moment's time. we are not known for our diplomacy, and rumours will spread. i feel to combat this, blackfeather must be more visible, that our wolves not always keep to the shadows.
our name will be known. and now relmyna made no attempt to glance from wintersbane; against the mortal edict of their kind their gazes vied. this liri is of no account; our numbers have grown in spite of her. it is perhaps time that blackfeather inspired fear once again.