Duskfire Glacier marrok

his eyes softened at her question, though a faint flicker of amusement danced beneath the surface. he was not unfamiliar with the yearning she felt—he saw it in her gaze, felt it in the way she pressed into him, tasted it in every touch she laid upon him. but faust was not a man driven solely by desire. he sought more than fleeting passion. he sought permanence. strength.
he leaned down, his nose brushing against her paw, a quiet gesture of respect. his muzzle traced up to her wrist, lingering there as he breathed her in.
the ways of darukaal do not rush such things, he rumbled, voice low but gentle. mates must prove themselves to one another. there are trials—tests. we seek to know if we are truly compatible. not just for now, but for all seasons to come.
he lifted his head, meeting her eyes, letting his gaze settle into hers with the weight of his conviction. this is not a refusal, lousine. i see you. i want you. but i want us to be strong. unshakable. when i call you my wife, it will be with certainty—no doubts, no weakness. only us.
his lips brushed her brow then, a promise woven into the touch. we will walk this path together. and when we reach the end... i will marry you.