Snowforest Taiga breathing fire

sun eater’s sneer carved lines of disdain into his features, though it lacked true malice. he is man like me. her brows knit. stark was a man of endless ambition, of hunger, of bruised pride and foolish plays for control and power.

her tail flicked once, measured. "no, you are not." she told him. he was not like stark. not really. stark was cruelty without cause, a man who wielded power like a bludgeon, thoughtless and unchecked. sun eater was sharp edges were softened by his devotion, his fury tempered by calculation. "you have met him once. i have known him years—the difference is immeasurable." they might share the same fire, but their character was incomparable.

sun eater’s mind was a turning wheel, and she saw herself reflected in it—just a fragment, but enough. enough to know he struggled to place her, to reconcile her words with his own doubts. her tell of the throne had struck a chord, she could tell. and though he hadn’t spoken of it outright, she could see the way it consumed him.

his declaration pulled her from her thoughts. her ears flicked forward. a new name—titles, recognition, for their effort in the manhunt. gjalla didn’t flinch. a new name was not merely a title; it was a rebirth, a severing of old roots to plant new ones in fresh soil. she saw it in star eater; she was changed, reborn for her mate. gjalla had understood this was the way of the saatsine. to take the name he offered would be to shed her past, to pledge herself wholly to his vision. she wards away the urge to frown at the implication. she did not want a new name, nor to sever herself from her culture for the sake of his.

she was gjalla of house brehn, always. from her birth to her death, to her arrival to valhalla. that was who she was.

“i will bring you his head, sun eater.” her gaze cut through him, unwavering, as if to say that no name, no title, would dictate the fires that drove her. she did not need a reward to kill him.

"i come to you again, gjalla. i ask more things. you tell." 

what star eater left out of her conversations with the chieftain, he looked to her to fill the gaps. it was pragmatic—calculated. she did not approve, but she would be honest when the time came. "very well."