Duskfire Glacier let me give you my life

RIP Tuwa

Njal swept towards his paramour smooth as meltwater, expression visibly ravaged by his wife's cutting tongue. However, scorn had deeply embedded itself within Tuwawi like a dug-in tick, and she was hardly moved by his morose visage and glassy eyes. She shifted anxiously. A single ear turned towards the ever-present Týrr — the comrade who's true feelings evaded her — to gesture for support as the glacial man made contact, but time withered as he pressed into fire. His touch was like frostbite — painful and raw — and the ember immediately began to quiver, every fiber rejecting his proximity.

Tonravik's flat voice spoke then and riled the still-grieving mother from her mate's hold. Tuwawi began to worm until her body trashed about like a fish plucked from a river. "Let go! Let go of me!" she cried, forcibly heaving herself from Njal's strong embrace against any better judgement. Without hesitation she marched up to the ebony woman, lips curled in a menacing grimace. "You know nothing!" Tuwawi snapped, pressing into the Tartokian's space with abandon. To think anyone could insinuate that Tuwawi wasn't prepared to die for her children fueled the Sveijarn's mania, her aggressive approach telling of the deep shame she endured. "Nothing about me, nothing about my children, and nothing of Duskfire's strife you damned cur!"