Sunset Valley Pǎnakär

in a wave her words come from blackened lips, hitting him with a force that only a woman could find to injure the hubris of a man. he recoils, wordlessly, taking a step backward from her. the barbarian lingered here, somewhere, in the heights. he could smell him— disgusting, aching scent.
he would not fight iskava any longer. she'd made her choice: it was not him. and neither, he was not his father.
but then she claimed the mountains as her own— bah! the man could chortle with a laugh, but instead, only his lips curved to a folly of a smile.
we'll see about that, he remarked, darkly, though his voice not raising above the weight of the clouds as it had just a few moments ago.
the mountain range was large. surely he wouldn't see her again.
and she puffed out like a woman claiming her throne— but he saw none. he saw reaches that hunter's would dream of, and had no intention of fleeing the lands.
safe travels, iskava. because god knows she'd fucking need it. before traipsing away through the snow, he cast a glance upward—
her guardian, ever watching, and he spat into the snow— fuck it, a leg raised, and pissed right into the white sheen of the valley.

exit faust hehehe