Duskfire Glacier northbound

his stepfather. svalla's blood boils upon the mention of him. the sour memories of her witnessing his harsh touch and words toward faust. he was only a child, but was scrutinized as an adult. punished as if he was grown. 

she remembers the storm clouds that would often hang over her old friend. how tumultuous he often was, how only she could soothe him. if she would've been stronger, if she would have been better...she would have killed the bastard who dared hurt him. 

she would've left his corpse to rot and be licked clean by buzzards. but, alas, wilding children were expected to respect their elders. to bend the knee blindly. to sit and take whatever they gave. 

the realization that he wanted so badly to take her, but he simply could not...

gods above, she's spent so long hating him. hating the memories they had together, all of the time spent side by side. inseparable. she hated that, at one time, she might have thought him as her soulmate. her second half. 

guilt eats away at her now. she'd been so blind as a naive child...blinded by her own hurt to have not seen his. she should have protected him, they way they promised to protect one another all those years ago. 

"i know," she murmured. her own hand came to caress his cheek, digits running soothingly against the scar that runs beneath his chin. "and i would have come. hrafnvaenger...it was not home. not with you gone."

a soft admission, a glimpse of the girl she once was. silk turned to tempered northern steel. but faust...he saw through it all. he was the only man who'd made her feel seen. understood. 

laughter leaves her then, a sound so unfamiliar now to her own ears. it feels...natural, with him. "someone has to keep you in line. i am not sure if it is by fortune or curse that that someone must be me." she mused, teased. 

pale eyes of ice followed where he glanced; toward his glacier. come home with me. 

she grins. something sharp, playful, as she whisks away. "we race, like old times. try to keep up, yes?" boastful her tone, before she's taking off, tearing through the snow with powerful grace.