Porcupine Ridge ❝—berries tart & lilac sweet.❞ (wdg.)

❝quiquië koslmë, aiano avanyárima siqilma: hireccoiamallë estatina uo.❞

❝quiquië márlondë entullmë, me-tulil enno asië nyando kiluva,❞

❝antalë indómë ar órenya. nai amanya hilyainyë ier i anar; nai elen atta siluvat aurenna veryanwesto.❞ though andraste recites them slow for his sake, melkor parrots them slower still; stumbling over them a few times. he hopes, feverently, that this is one of those cases where 'it's the effort that counts'. quietly, raptly, melkor listens to her explanation of the marking, agreeing to it with a sage nod of his head.

❝even if you weren't gentle i can take it.❞ melkor promises with a soft chuckle stirring in his chest, unable to help but feel that any marking that requires slicing flesh is not going to be as gentle as one hopes. obediently, the tundrian keeps himself still but loose as she approaches, standing at the ready for her to begin the marking process.