Overture Downs spoken words like moonlight,

for @Blackfell <3

lyrics taken from faded from the winter · iron & wine

a lilting song. ivvillu nipi piugijara.

moving, again, through the fields, towards the grove that she had once visited. day was warm, sun shining in a way that she had not grown used to in her youth. skin, warm beneath her plush coat, too. although snow dotted the meadow, clouds only briefly grasped the sky, and polar-cub would ensure her appreciation of the moment before it became a fleeting one. before the storms and the rain and the snow returned.

a melody left her black lips as she went, and so she would continue her song: miqqutiliriniq amma piruqsiat, words were gentle as the drifted from her maw, as if drawing the plants towards her in a true disney-princess fashion. her paws were careful, carried with a dancers grace, making an obvious effort to not step on any of the flowers that were otherwise unbothered by the snow. this place will be beautiful in spring, and summer, she thought, making a note to return. uvlumi taimaikkavit pisungniq,

uvannungaaq, qijungnit, pausing in her steps, now, to investigate the low branches of a local tree, and the scents upon it, her voice dropped into a murmur, soft in the last words that she would sing: ukiukkut anaaqtaujuq. tail brushing the grasses.

The week had worn on him.

Even still, he couldn't shake his mind of poisonous thoughts. She poisoned him. A black plague swept from the south come to reap him. To take the pride he hailed and stamp it.

Blackfell had thought, as a young man, if he ever saw the Princess @Gjalla again it would be her at the side of his cousin. A doted upon wife, a subservient Queen. A life she didn't deserve. And then, he had had his second chance to make her his.

And she had been something else entirely.

Blackfell moved through the fields with the slow, crunching footfalls. His form sluggish, lacking the usual strength it so often encompassed. The sun touched his dark back, warming the dark fur there, and he hated it—hated the openness of the meadow. It made him feel exposed and restless.

And then he heard it.

A song, soft and lilting, drifting through the crisp air. Soft, beautiful, lilting. A verbal dance, a sweet cry, that lulled him to rest. His ears flicked toward the sound before he turned his head, his gaze narrowing as he searched for the source.

And there she was.

She sang as she went, her voice remaining a beautiful constant. The herculean stilled, his frame sinking slightly into the soft ground as he watched her. Each stride was lighter than the last, her paws avoiding flowers, a respect for the nature around her Blackfell was unacquainted with. As for the sun, it caught the woman in golden patches, lighting her fur; rending her utterly breath-taking.

He was a man struck. He could not move for some time, merely watching and admiring. His jaws parted briefly to let her scent fill his senses, and he greedily drank it in, and found himself wanting for more. His paws move, carrying him closer to her, an uncharacteristic softness about the rugged beast the closer he grew. He chuffs lowly to the woman to catch her attention.

The noise made of bronze and chocolate.

i love u blackfell .

chuff sounded from behind the snowwoman, and she raised her head quickly, quite unceremoniously in fact, and nearly came face-to-face with one of the leaves of the lower-branches upon the tree she had been inspecting. rearing her head back, she gave a look to the vegetation, and then, upon scanning the meadow, the dark man a few ways away from her. an awkward, breathy laugh left her maw before she could stop it.

she moved aside, and although she was unfocused on the ground below her, pawsteps continued to move with a care, a precision that only a huntress could carry, working subconsciously to both conceal her steps and to reserve the plantlife. dawn-hued eyes lingered on the shadowy man, growing distant as the past seemed to flicker within her gaze. another man of darkness and shadows faint within her mind, long before these lands. the embodiment of a crows feather, who lived within the mountains.

hello, rala finally said, words northern, arctic in their smooth ease. a soft chuckle, looking back to the tree only momentarily: you, ah, startled me. hope you did not see, although, she believed he might have. not typically the one to be self-conscious of herself, she felt thrown off, now. not her usual chipper self, her song almost diminished by what seemed to be so plainly a reminder of her departure. staring, shamelessly.

a blink, maybe two, and she would speak again: you - remind me, a careful smile upon her face, a tilt of her head with brows drawn together in an innocent, though somewhat distant expression. of someone - where are my manners? i am nanuralaaq. a respectful dip of her head, just as ataata had taught her.