Duskfire Glacier and down goes the hatchet on the chopping block 'cus i love you like a mountain

as she is ever patient with him and his attempt to rasp out strings of broken common — oft with his own frustration seething close to the surface — he is patient as she tests the word of the north upon her tongue. trying again and again; determined. he nods along in encouragement, offering the sounds of syllables when she appears to be struggling; soft. as soft as he knows to be. it does not come naturally to him, this gentler side. but gleipnir has shared more with her than he has anyone else and she no longer feels as a stranger. like everything about this foreign land the blossoming of feelings in his chest — slow growing affection — is strange ...but not unpleasant.

norðrljós.

she speaks the word hesitantly to him, unsure of herself gleipnir can tell by her tone. já, he responds. good. he praises; and maybe she does not speak it as smoothly as he does but that doesn't matter. it is the effort she is willing to put forth and there is something about the rough way she speaks the northern word that gleipnir finds endearing. ...is good. he reiterates in an attempt to reassure her with a soft twitch of his lips, gaze lifting from her to the sky once more.