Luneshale Pass lonely bones

roan’s ears flicked subtly at her voice, the only acknowledgment of her words. his chort rose low and brief, a sound that spoke less of amusement and more of a deep, understated understanding. slowly, he inclined his head, his eyes falling shut in a motion that was neither dismissive nor welcoming—merely indifferent, like the steady rhythm of the tide meeting the shore.

her presence didn’t trouble him, nor did it stir him to speak again. instead, the silence returned, heavy yet uncharged, a canvas left untouched. roan held no tension for her to prod at, no barrier for her to breach. just the calm weight of his own stillness, shared without expectation.

fade?