Greatwater Lake remember how i died when you started walking?

Gjalla’s gaze softened ever so slightly as Baela spoke, though it was still the faintest shift—barely noticeable if one were not paying attention. The woman's voice, warm with a touch of humor, tugged at something within her, something that she rarely allowed to surface. A flicker of nostalgia crossed her features, but it was gone before it could fully take form.

“The world is a cold place, Baela,” The icy woman’s lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, though it never quite reached her eyes. "Comfort’s a luxury I’ve learned not to rely on." she replied dryly, her voice smooth but sharp. She stood a little straighter, the remnants of a stoic mask settling back into place.

The breeze shifted, carrying the scent of the forest and the faintest trace of salt from the lake, reminding Gjalla of the distance between them. So much had changed, and yet, here they were, the same as they had always been. Same enough, on a surface level.

"I’m sure you’ve found your own ways to adapt," she said, though her voice lacked the sharpness it might have once held. The faintest hint of a question lingered in her tone, a curiosity that only half revealed itself. Life had a way of chiseling away at the things you thought were permanent.