Qeya River [m] ghosts

gjalla didn’t look at him immediately, still lost in the shimmering canvas of the night sky. the stars were a guide, whispers from those that they could no longer reach.

when blackfell spoke, the softness in his voice was enough to draw her attention. tender, distracted. "anything?" she repeated, testing the word on her tongue. there was something about the way he said it, something genuine.

she glanced back at the stars, as though seeking something in the darkness, something to ground her. “it is said that the stars are wolves,” she told him, “watching from home or valhalla, guiding us. a reminder that you are never alone.”

she paused, her chest tightening with the emotion she kept carefully hidden. her gaze flicked back to him now, curious. “what do you make of it?”