Nova Peak back to the old house

silatuyok doesn't have the words to offer him. not in his tongue, anyways. there is no peace for him— but why? hadn't ayovi promised her peace for all, skorpa? she felt...she didn't know how she felt in this moment, besides kwitsi'nawa, where his anger had been trembles of waves now minimized to pulses beneath the earth.
but she rebuked what he sought. to put down the idea of growth; of change. she shook her head, taking the flower and milking it dry of its oil. die, yes. that much was true. but grow. new.
he is quiet for the time being. a bone-chilling silence from kwitsi'nawa. she doesn't know what else to say, can't do anything as a woman to appease him that didn't break the bounds of marriage.
instead, she moved, plucking a purple wisteria flower and planting it in the nape of his thick neck. another, too, if he allowed it. they would not stay for long, but the perfumes could be enough to take his mind off of whatever churned him.