Duskfire Glacier uppsaluk

gaze flickered between the pair, sharp and assessing. the glacier welcomes you, he side stepped to lean against the wall of the cave. as do i.
akavir stood firm, withholding, his words clipped and offering little. but it was the way he looked at the silver woman—silvertongue, as she called herself—that caught faust’s interest. there was something behind his eyes, a quiet heat simmering beneath the surface, restrained but present.
faust did not pry.
instead, he offered a brief, knowing smile.
blood talon are big game hunters, he answered simply, his voice even, unhurried. we hunt, provide, shelter.
his eyes lingered on silvertongue, unreadable. he did not miss the way she spoke, how carefully she measured her words, how easily she played to power. she was practiced. skilled. trained.
a woman like that did nothing without purpose.
but faust was a man who spoke plainly.
we do not conquer.
it was a truth carved into the bones of darukaal. they did not take what was not theirs, did not seek war for the sake of war. their claim was written in blood, but not in greed.
i am sorry that you did not find her. he looked to akavir then— unknowing of what it was like to bear the loss of a daughter, but he knew the weight of a missing sister more than most.