Whitebark Stream moon knight

she hummed, thoughtful as her gaze trailed after the younger crownore. the weight of blackfell’s words settled between them, familiar and expected. family was family, even when they wandered, even when they bit back.
it would not be a bad thing, she mused, eyes half-lidded in contemplation, to have another blackmarch boy here.
the saatsine were a hardened people, but there was strength in legacy, in bloodlines that stretched far and wide. she would not deny him if he chose to stay, nor would she push him away should he seek a different path. but it would be easier—simpler—if he remained.
her gaze flicked to blackfell again, measuring, knowing. perhaps you should tell him that, she murmured, a teasing note beneath the words, though there was something knowing there too. blackfell was a man of action, not sentiment. but she had seen it, the way blood still called to him.