Snowforest Taiga ξ

I want him dead, Ayovi.

“Jeg ved.”
She has asked him not to kill. Such a thing is not in the nature of the Wide Fang. Likely not for the danes either.  Ayovi has asked much of Skorpa. She’d been asking a great deal of him since they met. First to free her from Faust’s possession, then to find her a home of ice. To take care of a pregnant woman he did not know. To marry her; to make her a community upon the slopes of Stjernberg.
And now, once more: to ignore instinct in favor of the commonwealth.
“Jeg ved.” Ayovi repeats again, breathless.  He kisses her, flaying every insecurity where it threatens to root in her heart. Her eyes narrow, her lips soften. “Du er tålmodig, Skorpa of White Jaw.”  Patience, she thinks, is what a man needs to become a father.
“Bliv hos mig i aften?”