Noctisardor Bypass baelor

uktark does not need words to understand.
he matches blackfell’s pace without comment, shoulder brushing once in return before he falls in beside him. the grievances are familiar. a strong woman. a sharp will. a life that never quiets. his jaw tightens, not in irritation—but in something close to envy.
a wife.
his thoughts drift, unbidden, to nephele resting beneath stone and wind, to fuyao’s bright defiance by the river. almosts. maybes. nothing claimed.
he exhales through his nose and marks as they walk, deliberate, territorial. piss steams against snow and stone alike, reclaiming ground where he can. where he must.
his gaze stays forward, unfeeling as the ridge ahead.
he marches on with blackfell, saying nothing, sharing the silence like a burden both know how to carry.

love the gif!