Duskfire Glacier glakoss

faust listens. he does not interrupt. does not sneer nor let his features twist with the bitterness that simmers beneath his skin.
her sister's husband.
his jaw sets, but he does not speak on it, even as something in his gut coils. it should not bother him. it should not matter. yet there is something raw about the thought of her with another man—one who had already claimed her in ways faust had not.
but he catches himself before the feeling festers. it is ugly. it is undeserved. she is not yours.
instead, he exhales slowly, letting the weight of her words settle between them. she speaks of exile, of loss, and there is something in her voice that reminds him of himself.
so you see - I'm not really cut out for this whole wife thing.
his ear flicks, but he does not argue. he had not been pushing such a thing upon her.
maybe not, he murmurs, his voice even, controlled. he glances at her, a nod, simple but firm. i wasn’t asking you to be.
there'd been worse crimes. worse things that a family could do to one another. fucking a man out of lust— shit. you are not judged for your past here.