Qeya River home & consonance

Gjalla didn’t respond right away. She sat still, her broad shoulders rigid, though her eyes betrayed the storm within. The stars above seemed sharper now, their cold light cutting through the darkness like shards of glass. Distant, untouchable—like everything else she’d left behind. Like the memories of what they’d once had.

"The game of thrones," Gjalla echoed, her voice quieter, rougher. "It ruins everything it touches."

Her gaze flicked to Morwenna’s belly, and for a brief moment, the sharp edges in her expression softened. That flicker of hope, that fragile promise growing within her spirit sister. The promise of change. She envied it, in a way.

Her ears twitched as she felt the gentle brush of Morwenna’s muzzle against her shoulder, a touch that tethered her to the moment. Gjalla sighed, a sound that carried the weight of years of unspoken grief. "You’re right," she said, though her voice was low, uncertain. ""doesn’t mean I know what to do with it."

Her eyes met Morwenna’s then, the faintest trace of vulnerability breaking through the cold mask she wore. "There is peace with you," the princess mused idly, words falling from her tongue in the calmest fashion. "With the stars."

Gjalla’s gaze lifted once more to the blanket of darkness overhead. The breeze carried the scent of salt and earth, faint traces of a home long lost. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she allowed herself to wonder if there was still something left to find. Something worth reaching for. "Perhaps that is all I need, for now."