Silver Moraine i am a result

jóra snorts, rolling her eyes. "wasting my time?" she echoes, feigning offense. "i'm wounded to know you think so lowly of me, brother. i’ll have you know, i’m a very productive nuisance." her lips twitch, sharp with amusement, but beneath it, there’s something steadier—unspoken but understood.

his next words come softer, quieter, and for a moment, she doesn’t answer.

then, finally, "darukaal." the name rolls off her tongue with an air of finality, dull yellow eyes flicking toward him as if to gauge his reaction. "our cousin leads it. faust."

she tilts her head slightly, as if considering. "upon a glacier not far from here, bitter and cold." her gaze lingers on him for a beat longer before she exhales, turning her eyes back to the path ahead. "what of you?"