Duskfire Glacier mountain bone

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The moondancer did not speak, as harsh and jagged words fell upon her snowkissed ears. He was right. She did not like this. Did not like the pain in which he felt, the loneliness in which he knew. Did not like the fact that he had once loved another. But still, she stayed. Remained here, with him. Perhaps as a future lover. Perhaps, even more so, as a current friend. Perhaps simply as someone who had chosen him, and perhaps that was all that either of them really needed. To be chosen, wholly and truly, for who they were, despite their flaws and their pasts. Their mistakes and their shortcomings.
And it can be home again, she murmured. Her tone was that of comfort, of a warm winter sun against freshly fallen snow. It does not have to be a home with me, if you want not for it, but it is a home I will help rebuild, should you so wish it, words came in poetic melody. Carried on the air that swept around the cavern, that carried the whispers of a past once lived within these very stone walls. It was now that she looked up at him, her gaze meeting his own, nose tilting to trail along his tightened jaw. This was not a move of romance. This was not the beginning of a courtship. Rather, this was a comfort. A grief shared, a heartbreak halved. Grief may be easier, should we grieve together, her words, soft as winter-plume. Plush, like bed-pelts.
Sangilak... she murmured, now. Tell me, what is the meaning? For it sounded so distantly familiar in some odd way.