Dawnlark Plains you're a poem of mystery,

faust’s sharp green eyes flicked over her as her name left her lips, the weight of it sinking into the cold air between them. a name with purpose, earned, not given lightly. he was silent for a beat, digesting her words, before a short, low laugh broke from his chest.

you do look like baby polar bear, he said, the faintest trace of humor curling his lips. his gaze softened just slightly, though it didn’t lose its edge. there was something disarming about her, even as she held herself with the pride of one who had seen much and endured more.

his nose twitched, drawing in the scent of the snow-laden air and the faint aroma of her presence. nanuralaaq, he repeated, testing the weight of it on his tongue. it suited her, this pale creature standing resilient against the winter winds. she might have been carved from the same frozen landscape that had shaped him. it was easy for him, too, and it rolled off fluently. 

don't want star girl to go. he confessed, though it was rather brutish. but ayovi waited. faust took a step back, grabbing the hare. but i must.