Northstar Vale a grin as sharp as a knife (mtr.)

To look o'er thin shoulder and meet his gelid gaze would be nothing short of falling to petrification; but as the silver studies the faded, fickle mirror imagery of herself ... perhaps it is what is needed. To do that which she has never believed she would become so affrighted of; the few myriad truths with two-parts transparency; the tasting, the testing; she is all but half-listening to that which the tundrian conveys. What-ever anxious aching within her soon ebbs with the arrival of something rigid and resigned in her way of breath;
such was touch; such was love; loonful for none, for both, for all. Ever spurned by the sea; since scorched beneath her own spires  —  blast it!

"You are no knight, Melkor,"
softened sighs come to stir the sapphire ribs forthwith; steeling herself against the delicate churn within innards and saltglint behind lashes as she swiveled 'round. Breast bedding upon woad flank, reaching about him as a faint, fanged, half-chaste kiss came to peck into the tender give of his underarm:  "Ze less informal, ze better,"
rests shorn cheek against the crook of inked elbow; awaiting the thrum that would be felt with his hiemal musings; quieted.  "I insist."