Duskfire Glacier guard

faust eyed the sprig of lavender in her grasp, then back to her face, searching for something unspoken. whatever he found there—if anything—was his alone to hold.
he took it, rough-hewn paw curling around the delicate stem, though his expression remained impassive. for a man so cold, so unyielding, the contrast of soft floral between his teeth was almost comical. but he did not laugh.
instead, he gave a small nod, tilting his head towards the lake in silent invitation.
come, he said, voice low, firm.
and with that, he turned, leading her through the ice-bitten path, the frozen air swirling in quiet between them. whatever lay unspoken, whatever thoughts drifted beneath their skins, they would remain where words dared not trespass.

fade? :)