Shadewood maquktuq ⛈

i love gwen <3 & this whole thread

she did not immediately register gwen's words, only waited for the harsh tonality that never came. instead, it seemed that the snow queen softened, thanked her, wished to help. the girl was left without fear, but only emptiness stole into its wake, bleeding the wary light from her eyes into a dulled sheen.

"cry too said that i did not only have to be wife," kukutux whispered. how could she explain what it meant to her, in this world where two became one for vastly different reasons. the girl lifted her eyes to to the snow that had begun to fall in earnest. it seemed a knife tore at her heart, for echoes of pain began to reverberate more strongly.

"i was wife before," the duck revealed, returning her spring-mint gaze to the searching azure of gwen's own. "among my people, we are women earlier. and we are not given as wives; we choose. he was kind to me, always, and he brought my father good things and my mother respect.

"i was happy to be his wife. he looked only at me. his eyes were gentle," kukutux whispered, her voice light with the grief that battered like moon-stoked waves at the doors of her heart. "my husband and i loved one another as you and cry do," she added, refusing to weep. not now, not now. 

"he is gone. if i could be second wife, i would not be idle, and it would keep me from the pain of losing another husband." it was perhaps illogical, but kukutux never wished to know the agony of loving a man only to lose him again. it was driftwood upon the sea, that part of her spirit, the girl had decided. gwen's offer would not go unnoticed; the duck dipped her head in gratitude for the snowy one's acceptance and regard of her. "at the end of this moon, my period of mourning will be over. perhaps then i will be ready." the anguish would remain, but a moon was the proper length of time to mourn. kukutux was young; she could not spend her next years in sorrow.