Duskfire Glacier jimmy, you should switch it up

faust’s gaze lingers on the altar, unreadable. he listens as she speaks, letting her words settle between them like dust on snow. sin and selardi. sun and moon. he does not scoff, but neither does he nod in reverence.
he looks to her then, head tilting slightly. she was careful with this. caring.
you could put it in our den. the offer comes low, rough, like he isn’t quite sure why he’s saying it. but he does. he doesn’t look at her as he does, instead casting his gaze to the treeline.
he grunts after a moment, shifting his weight. i don’t believe in omens. the words are firm, but lack a bite. faust believes in what he can see, what he can hunt, what he can kill. but she believes.
his gaze drifts back, settling on her face. they sent you to me.
his ear flicks. hm.