Permafrost Hollows kementári

no worries <3

Her voice reached him like a flicker of warmth brushing frostbitten stone; soft, measured, deliberate. The title, foreign on her tongue yet strangely fitting, was met only with the faintest tilt of his head. A flicker of acknowledgment passed through his eyes; something between a sigh of wind and a drawn blade. He had not given her the name. She had found it on her own.
And then: Siofra.
It was not adorned, nor given with pomp. But it rang with something old. Worn, yes, but not broken. There was steel there, buried beneath the weariness. A name not given up, not entirely. Astier stepped forward at last, slow and silent. The pale of his form emerged from the shadows like mist curling through starlight. The light kissed his chest, the cool fire in his gaze. No smile came; only that lingering, pointed stillness that suggested he had seen many things come and go… but her name, unlike so many, he intended to remember.
„I will.” His voice was low, gravel-soft, as if shaped by the mountain wind itself. And then, a pause; „That name still bears weight.” He left the rest unsaid; but the ghost of it lingered in the air between them, where silence spoke louder than any title.
And when he stepped fully into the light she offered, he did not bow, did not yield; but something in him… softened. A fraction, a flicker, a specter, seen.