Duskfire Glacier ever since i was a kid,

he’s here, faust said at last, voice low. and i worry for him more than he knows. a breath. heavy. he’s got a heart too soft for this place. for what’s coming.
he didn’t look at her yet. couldn’t. not when she spoke of legacy, of belief, of all the things he wasn’t sure he deserved.
but he listened.
you make it sound like i'm some great monument, he muttered, voice wry and low, like they’ll chisel my name into the ice after i’m gone. a pause. then quieter, rougher: maybe i don’t need that. maybe it’s enough just to be remembered by the ones who mattered.
his head turned then, just slightly. green eyes found hers. the fire in her—the sharp edges softened for a rare moment of honesty—met the storm in him.
you’re not broken, svalla, he murmured. you were forged.
and then, because he couldn’t help it, he let her lean. he didn’t deserve it. not the warmth, not the comfort. but he’d be damned if he turned it away.
if i’m a bastard, then you’re the only one who ever stayed long enough to know the whole of me. a beat.
his eyes drifted to the glacier’s edge, wind slicing past them in silence.
but if this all burns, if we lose it all—i want you and kaelith to live. not just survive. live. you understand me?