Duskfire Glacier Arvīge

a woman. ivory.
she needn't say more than that. blackfell's eyes seem to register immediately and he grunts only, shifting upon thick paws. overlooking the vast region of the territory their eyes were allotted from this vantage point upon the hill. then, leaning closer to faust; breath upon his cheek.
fucking svalla. his hiss is cold.
he relents now, not fully, but enough that he can no longer take joy in chiding this woman. now, he feels only cold anger.
blackfell's guard hairs bristle. do you know? he says now, a voice only for them to know, to understand. she attacked before she went to you? claimed that i abandoned her? the man speaks swiftly, coldly now, head turned for faust's closest ear.
you must get her under control. she threatens what you have built.
ayovi's threat is now unchecked by him. as far as he is concerned, she would be doing them all a favor—notwithstanding his lingering childhood affections for svalla.