The Wall Toome

faust’s ears flicked back at her words, the faintest huff escaping him, low and dismissive. ice woman’s curiosity pricked at his nerves, but he didn’t immediately answer. instead, he let the silence stretch as he tore another piece from the carcass, blood staining his muzzle before he finally lifted his head to meet her gaze.

haven’t found the right people, he said bluntly, his green eyes narrowing as if daring her to make something of it. there was no shame in the admission; only fact, delivered with the same unflinching weight as his presence. there are bad men out there.

he shifted his weight, the tension in his frame easing slightly as he looked past her, to the vast, empty stretch of snow beyond. i’ll build it. my place. when the time’s right. his tone was rough, but there was a conviction beneath the gruffness, something rooted deep in his chest. it wasn’t a dream—it was a certainty.

his gaze returned to her, sharp and calculating, as though measuring her reaction. just me, for now. the words were simple, but they carried an edge of finality, a warning that he wasn’t one to be pressed further. but the flicker of curiosity in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed, and for a moment, his expression softened—just barely. why you alone?