Silver Moraine tell me, mockingbird

faust exhales, slow and deep, the weight of it settling in his chest. his green eyes flicker with thought, distant for a moment before he gives a curt nod.
yeah, he mutters, glancing past masa, as if the wind might carry the shape of the man they speak of. the thought of him lingers, a bitter taste in the back of his throat.
he does not need a warning to know what sun eater is capable of. he has seen it already, in the way war lingers at his heels like a starving hound.
i'll take that under advisement.
he doesn’t watch masa leave, but he listens, ears twitching at the sound of his retreating steps. the glacier winds howl around him, whispering of the hunt to come.