Silver Moraine i am a result

"exactly," jóra says with a grin far too smug for the likes of her, "what’s the point in helping others if you can’t help yourself first?" jest, mostly, but there is truth to it. she’s always been ready to bare her teeth for what she wants—and she has.

the change in his face doesn’t go unnoticed. at the mention of faust, she sees the way his expression cools, the twitch in his ears, narrowing eyes. her own gaze sharpens. curious. "you’ve seen him," she echoes, "a lovely reunion, i'm sure."

he is among saatsine, now. funny. "did the cold finally get to you?" she hums, disbelief curling her lips upward. it doesn’t quite land the way she wants—there's something missing in his words, something unsaid that she can feel like a crack beneath thin ice.

"sounds like we’ve both been crawling," she says finally, her voice softer now.