Whitebark Stream Polite Society, Valentine Style

she had been expecting anger. annoyance. vexation. anything but... whatever it was that shone on his face now. acceptance, or something like forgiveness.

she approaches him with chin turned high. one of three emotions ravah felt comfortable sharing, it seemed.

those eyes of his are alight with a frustrating amount of kindness that the man seemed drawn to and something ravah was swiftly realizing. they are met with her own, though little is revealed within them... as was typical for the icy huntress.

she falls into a circadian kind of rhythm alongside him, two strides for each of his one.