the wind does not relent. it carves through the cliffs, biting at his thick fur, but fenris remains still. the ice beneath him is solid, unyielding, like the weight in his chest.
he watches the sky. clouds shift, dark and heavy, rolling toward the horizon. soon, it will be a year. their mother’s death lingers in the back of his mind like a distant storm, creeping closer with each passing day.
he does not speak of her often. even as a boy, he had been quiet, watching as she bore her suffering without complaint. she had not been weak—no, she had been stronger than any of them. enduring where others would have broken.
his breath leaves in a slow exhale, curling into the frigid air.
he wants to honor her. not just in thought, but in something real.
a hunt, perhaps. a gathering. something that would remind the gods that she had lived, that she had mattered.
February 19, 2025, 09:37 PM
darukaal had risen, and suddenly lousine was thrust into a foreign world.
darukaal was foreign enough to her in concept. faust was a fiercely traditional man, and the beliefs he wished to uphold here reflected that. but she had gotten used to him. over the many weeks they'd been together, she had learned a lot about him — the ways he liked his food prepared, his sleeping and hygiene habits, the face he makes when he's agitated.
but what she hadn't yet gotten used to was the fact that others shared space with them, and now she was expected to lead alongside him.
it occurred to her just how little she knew of the men and women faust recruited — and so she set out to rectify it.
the first she came across on her search was a tall, steel-carved man, alone out in the ice plains. he seemed to be thinking, perhaps reminiscing, or maybe just waiting for the storm to roll in.
lousine didn't speak to him, at first. she watched and she waited.
darukaal was foreign enough to her in concept. faust was a fiercely traditional man, and the beliefs he wished to uphold here reflected that. but she had gotten used to him. over the many weeks they'd been together, she had learned a lot about him — the ways he liked his food prepared, his sleeping and hygiene habits, the face he makes when he's agitated.
but what she hadn't yet gotten used to was the fact that others shared space with them, and now she was expected to lead alongside him.
it occurred to her just how little she knew of the men and women faust recruited — and so she set out to rectify it.
the first she came across on her search was a tall, steel-carved man, alone out in the ice plains. he seemed to be thinking, perhaps reminiscing, or maybe just waiting for the storm to roll in.
lousine didn't speak to him, at first. she watched and she waited.
February 21, 2025, 02:02 AM
he feels someone watching, and he knows who she is.
faust had spoken of her, in that curt way of his, as if her place at his side was already written in the ice.
fenris had not questioned it then. he does not question it now. but he regards her with a quiet curiosity, those seawater eyes settling on her plush form. she was small.
dainty. unlike the women of their homeland.
fenris takes it upon himself to beckon her closer.
faust had spoken of her, in that curt way of his, as if her place at his side was already written in the ice.
fenris had not questioned it then. he does not question it now. but he regards her with a quiet curiosity, those seawater eyes settling on her plush form. she was small.
dainty. unlike the women of their homeland.
fenris takes it upon himself to beckon her closer.
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