Silver Moraine i am a result

blackfell holds her tight, pressing his nose against her crown while he says nothing, only breathes her in—smoke and pine, the scent of home.

of what was left of it. it brings a stinging sorrow to conquer the contents of his chest.

but now, of all times, he will not falter. he draws back, letting his grip fall free of his sister, and rasps: it has, crimson eyes never leaving hers all the while. she questions whether he missed her and he knows the answer is easy: yes.

no, it is a lie, deadpan as they come—but she will see it for what it is as the way his lips twitch betrays him. his head tilts, gaze flicking over her as if assessing for damage. you have kept yourself in one piece. i am almost impressed.