Moonstone Quarry dragonspine

Her posture softened as she heard his steady approach, the sound of his movement as familiar as the wind's whisper. The mist clung to his form as the remnants of an ancient dream, but there was no haste in his steps, no sign of urgency. The frostmaiden let the silence stretch between them, her gaze still fixed on the water, though it no longer held her attention as it had before.
When his voice met her ears, there was a shift; a pulse of something deep within her, a recognition of something she hadn’t quite realized she’d been waiting for. 
„Solharr,” she murmured, her voice a breath of sound, low but certain. Aneira turned slowly, though not fully, so that his presence lingered just outside the periphery of her vision. She could feel him there; his weight in the air, his unspoken steadiness.
„Is that so?” She smirked, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. „The stone has a mind of its own then.” Her gaze met his, pale eyes flashing with something like mischief. „I’ve had to adjust to it. It’s not quite like the softness of the forest.” Her paws shifted slightly beneath her, pressing deeper into the cool stone. Her fur, damp with the lingering fog, caught the morning light as she shifted her weight. There was a quiet acknowledgment in the way she moved, as though she could settle into the earth itself if only it would hold her.
She tilted her head slightly, watching him with a mix of amusement and something else; perhaps the very same embers that clung to his eyes, half-hidden, but burning just as fiercely. „And you? Have you been awake all this time, or have I dragged you from dreams of your own?” she asked, her voice a murmur that barely broke the quiet.