Sawtooth Spire Step into your power.

last <3

“No,”
Undómiel sighs, low and soft,  “I should have taken my leave. It is certainly a private matter.”  The strident chords, the stabbing ill-wishes, the stressors, all of it; regarded with the planes of lune-pale face now inscrutable, stilled. She could no more step to either's side than she could encourage the lack of rightness that the foul-mouthedness that had been so bitterly bartered. Even silence, perhaps, is just as damning — yet it is what she retreats into once more, as she always has.  “For there is but icewater to be found here, I will return to ze Court. This Blackfesther, however,”  lisping tones petering back to the once-rook, stricken listing north once more,  “lies just in ze western vale, should you wish to make amends.”

Tundra could very well postpone such a trek to amends, for her step was steadied enough if the pale crow wished to return to her side. If not — she would away from this chilled spire all the same.