Herbalists' Cache but my aching soul

blackfell watches her, unimpressed.

“you are insufferable.” he resigns to that.

the way she can read him has become both his greatest frustration and his deepest comfort.

“she isn’t mine.”

the words sound hollow even to his own ears. gjalla knows it. sees through it. calls it what it is without needing to say a thing. her brow lifts, pointed, smug, waiting for him to admit it.

blackfell exhales sharply, eyes narrowing. “she needed a teacher. that is all.”

fade?