Ouroboros Spine máni

ears flicked as kukutux approached, her presence a soft murmur in the stillness of the night. he did not turn to her immediately, the weight of her arrival settling over him like freshly fallen snow. when her words came, gentle and measured, they carried no rebuke, yet guilt threaded itself through his chest regardless.

his golden eyes remained fixed on the moon for a moment longer before he shifted his gaze to her, the faint glimmer of its light casting shadows over his features. her offering, held out in her weathered paw, was met with silence. no words could mend the lapse he felt—only action. sólhárr took the plant from her hand, his touch firm yet respectful, and placed it into his mouth, chewing slowly as he watched her consume her own share.

he followed her gaze to the moon, its pale glow a sentinel over their silent exchange. kukutux’s faith in ancient rites and spirits was something sólhárr respected, even if his own convictions felt more rooted in flesh and bone than in dreams.

as the substance took hold, he sat back, his massive frame relaxing into the moment. the storm within him quelled, if only slightly, as he allowed himself to exist within her ritual. though no words were exchanged, his acceptance was clear. he would dream with her, here beneath the watchful eyes of the moon.