Duskfire Glacier glacierline

faust shakes his head, slow and certain. no. the word is gruff, final, but not unkind. his jaw brushes over the crown of her head as she settles into him, and he exhales through his nose, the tension bleeding out with the sound. i need this, too.
and it’s true. after the gathering—winsook, saatsine, blackfell and all the others, the endless dance of faces and posturing—he’s been wound too tight. carrying it in his shoulders, in the clench of his teeth. but here, with her, it slips away just enough to breathe.
too many damn wolves talking. a huff of quiet amusement, low and tired. needed somewhere quieter. someone quieter. lousine wasn't exactly quiet.
his gaze flickers down to her leg when she explains, a frown tugging at his lips. old pain, familiar by now, but that didn’t make it right. didn’t mean he had to like it. you move well enough for the both of us. just not tonight.
his chin rests briefly atop her head. it feels right, keeping her here, keeping her still. just us.