Duskfire Glacier and down goes the hatchet on the chopping block 'cus i love you like a mountain

glacial gaze flicks across the nearly shy smile that tugs at the corners of her lips; finding it curious. but whether out of no need to question it or because he cannot find the words to do so he acknowledges it only silently; gaze returning up to the writhing lights that color the sky and catch the patches of exposed ice in a distorted mirror of smearing greens and blues.

...and then there is a small touch; her shoulder pressing against where she can reach. the muscle of his shoulder twitches at the flush of warmth that the small touch brings with it and he glimpses down at the mingling of her ruddied fur with his of platinum silver. it reminds him of blood staining his fur and comes as no surprise that he likes that, too.

the talk of their gods, however, reclaims his attention and he glimpses once more at the fey lights in the sky, ear pivoting in her direction as she responds with 'no'. not peryite. without having either gods to claim as responsible for the phenomenon gleipnir is not sure how else to explain it. but ...maybe it didn't merit an explanation; perhaps it was simply one of those things that simply was and was left to plague them with its alluring mystery.

instead of giving her a verbal answer he simply follows after her lead, feeling that his trailing steps are answer enough.