Silver Moraine multieyed raven

faust’s brow knits as he watches his brother, the weight of that glacier settling heavier on his back than it had moments before. pride was a good thing. but pride didn’t keep a man beside you. didn’t fill the empty spaces where loyalty ought to live.
he exhales slow, the breath fogging in front of him.
i see.
simple. flat. the words scrape the back of his throat, carrying more disappointment than he bothers to mask. he'd thought... well, he isn't sure what he'd thought. that blood would always circle back home. that brothers were something you could hold onto.
he looks past tvar to the ice fields beyond, the wind curling sharp around them both.
lot of responsibility there, faust mutters, almost to himself. and here.
he lets the silence sit between them for a beat, heavy and cold.
you’re still welcome. always.
but the way his eyes linger on the horizon, it's clear he’s already bracing for the goodbye.