Qeya River heavy is the head

she chuffed softly at his correction, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. blackthorn, then, she murmured, the name rolling off her tongue with deliberate weight. she knew that fire—had carried it herself once, burning against the past she could not escape.

then we both shed old blood, she continued, stepping forward with calm purpose. i am star eater now. wife to the chieftain of saatsine, and a woman far from the throne of evenspire.

her gaze shifted, following the ripple of his prowling form, her expression steady. now, blackfell, she said, her tone dipping into something sharper, a thread of curiosity woven into her words. why have you come here? what do you seek among my husband’s people?

she tipped her head slightly, her voice softening just enough to make the question feel less like a demand and more like an invitation. is it purpose, or something else entirely?