Shadowwyn Moor smooth pebble

suliya listened, her jaw tight and eyes sharp, though her face betrayed nothing of the storm twisting inside her chest. she nodded, giving her agreement in a smooth motion. i will speak to him, she said simply, her voice calm, measured—entirely detached from the tangle of her thoughts.

winter's wake.

his image flitted through her mind like the wind through dry leaves. the man of the seasons, his sharp wit and playful nature, stark in contrast to the rigid walls of lanzadoii tradition. for a fleeting moment, the thought of vanishing into the wilds with him whispered in her mind—muradoii ways.

but she anchored herself, held steady. disappearing without thought was not her choice to make, not yet. she had obligations, if not to the spirits, then to herself.

still, a boy husband was not what she wanted. the thought curdled in her chest, though she kept it unspoken. her place was to listen, to learn, to remain.

instead, she flicked her tail, changing the subject with precision. and your new wife? her tone was light, but her gaze sought sun eater’s face with purpose. does she please you? it was not idle curiosity but something deeper—a question born from the tension she felt at his proclamation, from the shifting dynamics she now found herself tangled within.