Porcupine Ridge ❝—berries tart & lilac sweet.❞ (wdg.)

melkor is quiet as andraste begins to explain the traditions of her people when it comes to becoming official mates. if there were traditions that the gangster and nightingale had practiced melkor wasn't aware — and his brief time in enok tundra did not unravel any for him either. ❝marking —?❞ he breathes the word and then stupidly, realization sinks in mere moments later. ❝you mean scarring?❞ he was already covered in scars ...what was a few more? a blasphemy of a thought that a younger melkor would've whole heartedly balked at.

she begins to recite the vows and melkor thinks that today was the day his pronunciation of valerian would surely be put to the test; few words he does actually know. ❝nalyë axovíse va ninya,❞ melkor parrots back, raspy tenor like whisky steeped in smoke. ❝antávaldë i ye vertanya.❞