He strokes her. Very gently. She can sense the argent strands beneath his tongue. Rough. Sandpaper. He is careful not to beset her. She can feel herself through him. His breath. Her skin.
She pulls back, ears brushing past the wet edge of Cen’s jaw to look up into all he allows her to see of himself.
Biology designed their dance, and now fear had timed it. In each tremor of pleasure she knew they would pay with an equal measure of pain. And yet— her nose falls, moving to graze the hollow of Cen’s chest, her lips arriving after.
“I believe you,” Iglux̂ murmurs there, softly, avidly; reaching for this tender idea of home.

[on belief such as this was trust built. cen's breath wavered out in a sigh of relief. it was not too late for iglux̂ to recant him, to turn away to another. it was not too late for crying-wind to decide that bitterbrush man was unworthy and thus save herself the side of a mercurial chieftain. but he did not want to be this with her, not in their moments, not in their days; if he must kill and break bone and command death, let it be beyond that veil of welcoming frost which settled around he and she now. i have asked meleys to marry us. his sister was not elderly, but she held an age higher than either cen or iglux̂; he hoped this would appease her spirits. there was no one else after all things to which he might have entrusted the task, even if he had chosen outside the saatsine. he wished to speak of the celebration and the guests that might be invited, but cen held fast at this point. he wished to see her eyes change, to know her mind; he waited with his own single stare unveiled for the ticking seconds.]

on belief such as this was trust built. cen's breath wavered out in a sigh of relief. it was not too late for iglux̂ to recant him, to turn away to another. it was not too late for crying-wind to decide that bitterbrush man was unworthy and thus save herself the side of a mercurial chieftain. but he did not want to be this with her, not in their moments, not in their days; if he must kill and break bone and command death, let it be beyond that veil of welcoming frost which settled around he and she now.
i have asked meleys to marry us. his sister was not elderly, but she held an age higher than either cen or iglux̂; he hoped this would appease her spirits. there was no one else after all things to which he might have entrusted the task, even if he had chosen outside the saatsine.
he wished to speak of the celebration and the guests that might be invited, but cen held fast at this point. he wished to see her eyes change, to know her mind; he waited with his own single stare unveiled for the ticking seconds.

Crying-wind makes a ceremony of marriage through a blessing of words and a feast. A wedding, with guests. A celebration.
Iglux̂ desires none of it.
This is no time for fear. Though it gnaws on the sides of her body, it has not yet reached her heart. Cen’s eye is grey—grey-blue and full of her winter.
“I’ve told you. I’m no good at waiting,” she jokes. But she knows too much, can shut herself off, and it would lead to indifference— that slow death. Iglux̂ is not ready to die. She surrenders to revel in the nuance of blood currents, in the sacred spirits, the exquisite trembling of affection or flight.
“If you mean it– marry me, Cen. Tonight. Now.”
There need be only two.
Slewfoot breaks off into a canter, not towards the saatsine but where the herds graze in the depths of night.
Cradle my waxwing’s heart.

[iglux̂ had been prepared for a moment cen found himself ready to doubt. but she was right, and this time they could not wait. the future of the saatsine lay in the lanzadoii women, and the wife of chieftain was a lofty role to hold. it was why for a moment he found himself wondering if he was ready to relinquish the solitude at their helm. yes. now. tonight. cen snaked after iglux̂, to their herds and to their caribou. there he chuffed softly for Meleys. let her be the mediator between sight and spirit, pulling the lanzadoii ever closer to one another. but his attention was upon crying-wind: this eve both lives would change.]

iglux̂ had been prepared for a moment cen found himself ready to doubt. but she was right, and this time they could not wait. the future of the saatsine lay in the lanzadoii women, and the wife of chieftain was a lofty role to hold.
it was why for a moment he found himself wondering if he was ready to relinquish the solitude at their helm.
yes.
now. tonight.
cen snaked after iglux̂, to their herds and to their caribou.
there he chuffed softly for Meleys. let her be the mediator between sight and spirit, pulling the lanzadoii ever closer to one another. but his attention was upon crying-wind: this eve both lives would change.

Those who drift nearer to the caribou would drift nearer to Meleys. They grazed and she lay under starlight resting while they did so. Eyes closed, head rested on outstretched legs and her ears would twitch and swerve as she lifted to their eating and footfalls.

Then a pattern of swift footfalls, looping into the direction of the grazing herd. Her eyes remain closed a while longer, listening until she decides it is a pair. A night hunt?

The watcher lifts her head then, duel colored eyes meeting the canter of Cen and Iglux̂ and she moves to pull herself up from her lay as her brother chuffs into her direction. Meleys takes a few solid strides towards the pair. Her ears erect with wonder of this meeting.

It is frivolous to go on. But this new element—a passing impatience with convention, puts her lapse beyond mitigation. Scents reach beyond the lake, low to the wintry sedges. She hears the pursuit of the chieftain behind, then sees the phantom’s veil as Meleys rouses in a serape of snow.
Lips part, but only for her throat to constrict. No words come. She has to pause.
For weeks she’d been confused by Cen. Angry with herself. She thought that if he’d released her, she’d make peace with never seeing him in this way. She thought she’d run the herds and be happy, she was so frightened. It had been a way of not thinking about it— a convenient turn.
Until now, the obsidian gaze had been lowered. When Cen steps through the light, her eyes go to him.

[cen's stare did not waver from iglux̂. he breathed in the fragrances of evergreen needlework in her nape, bathed himself in the atramentous waterfall of her regard. it was cowardice to continue his selfish gloat; if cen did not speak now, he knew that he might well lose her. but more than that -- he would lose his chance to know himself. she did not wish to wait, but in truth he had no reluctance within him either. it was time, it was more than time. at last cen turned his determined stare to meleys. of this they had spoken before, thus his sister's understanding was assumed. around the three, the walls of caribou flanks shifted in a living morass of one flesh, and iglux̂ captured his regard once more. held it, held him. his heart thrummed boyish, and for a moment that almost narrowed his scarred brow in surprise, cen realized that some bleak thorn was loosening within him, replaced by the shimmering, sickening taste of hope. a breath took his chest before he was able to compose himself again, vulnerability fighting his own control. iglux̂ of crying wind, cen said aloud, for he had learned to walk through such valleys, i will hunt this blood for you. i will build your shelter of snow. meleys then, for as their witness she too might speak, chieftain standing enthralled before the silverstream who had run through his thoughts since their first meet.]

cen's stare did not waver from iglux̂. he breathed in the fragrances of evergreen needlework in her nape, bathed himself in the atramentous waterfall of her regard. it was cowardice to continue his selfish gloat; if cen did not speak now, he knew that he might well lose her. but more than that -- he would lose his chance to know himself. she did not wish to wait, but in truth he had no reluctance within him either. it was time, it was more than time.
at last cen turned his determined stare to meleys. of this they had spoken before, thus his sister's understanding was assumed. around the three, the walls of caribou flanks shifted in a living morass of one flesh, and iglux̂ captured his regard once more.
held it, held him. his heart thrummed boyish, and for a moment that almost narrowed his scarred brow in surprise, cen realized that some bleak thorn was loosening within him, replaced by the shimmering, sickening taste of hope.
a breath took his chest before he was able to compose himself again, vulnerability fighting his own control. iglux̂ of crying wind, cen said aloud, for he had learned to walk through such valleys, i will hunt this blood for you. i will build your shelter of snow.
meleys then, for as their witness she too might speak, chieftain standing enthralled before the silverstream who had run through his thoughts since their first meet.

The young woman opens her mouth, yet no words are given. She is young and driven. She might bend to Cen's ways given her youth, but it was ways they shared. Her pride was one of Lanzadoii pride. Not one held on from other cultures not of their own. Not like whom Cen had mistakeningly chose before.

Meleys would keep her eyes on her, watching in quite calculation until her brother speaks, pulling her stare off the girl and onto him instead. They were ready.

Meleys sits long enough to dip her head down and pull at a wrapping on her back left ankle to remove it. It was a long, thin piece of leather striped from caribou back. Dried and chewed up again and again to be pliable for this event. She kept it warm from stiffing tied on her body. It was not cord of tissue which the wolves of Crying Wind would have chosen, but the sentiment for Iglux̂ natal band was given still.

She lifts a front paw and juts her muzzle in silent command for they to do the same. Then, lays the strip of leather loosely across both their ankles as they are held up together. I bind you. Two into one. Grabbing one end of the leather, she wraps once around their feet. May Kigun bless your hunt as one. A second wrapping. May the widow strike down enemies shared. A third wrapping. May Ilannak give health and strength to seed and womb.

Now go. Walk with the spirit of the Ice Raven. Do not return for seven days. She and Saatsine would be here when they returned.

Once, twice, a third time—
Iglux̂ is unable to stem the loom of tearshed, eyes downcast as she and Cen’s wrists are bound. Shock rocks her chest fiercely, for she hadn't expected Meleys to know, and now her ears absorb each spirit’s name from the lips of darfang.
She mattered. Her traditions mattered.
Her mantle of daughterliness clings tightly. The wind is persistent; it is her mother listening. The stars seem on the lake very close; that is her uncle spying. Everything in nature is her relative, standing witness. She is never alone. Her hearing follows now the draw of nightwind’s breath, the way it hooks before he speaks in tones warm as fire.
Her eyes lift to take Cen within her sights.
There are answers she did not have; if they were truly fated. If they would be happy. If their marriage would last.
But there were also truths that stood like mountains since the beginning; that Cen is doting and protective. That looking on his face makes her shy because she likes it so much. That she wants his body against hers in sleep, and often when they are awake. That she likes the smell of him after a hunt. That she craves the honestly of his mind.
And the truth amid the uncertainty of this night is that Iglux̂ wants nothing more than Cen’s voice. When he speaks, he has her full attention. She hears it and looks to find his face, and once she does, she stares and listens the way a child watches something others forget to be dazzled by.
Tears fall now, her vulnerability, and Iglux̂ allows them. The huntress places her paw into the palm of her husband, impressing this peace into memory. She watches his face, seeing every veiled expression in Cen's singular eye as the most honest look into his mind.
“This is the paw that will run alongside your’s. It is the paw that will hold you when grief fills your mind. The one that will tenderly cradle your children. Where you call, I come. Where you bleed, I bleed. I chose you before, and I choose you now, Cen Lanzadoii of the saatsine.”

[meleys and the scent of good caribou leather. cen felt the touch of it around his wrist. kigun. the widow. Illanak. the single eye shut, for the chieftain found himself fraught and unbalanced by a striking surge which he knew to be love -- love, unbound from moorings, from hesitation. love, unformed, for cen did not have the words to speak his heart. those eloquences, he saw, lay in the eyes of crying-wind. his sister spoke in a way he had not heard before, not only as darkfang and sister to cen, but as blood-matriarch to the sun clan, and a breath of gratitude swelled his chest. iglux̂ wound her voice around his ears, and the lanzadoii man was surprised to taste the faintest salt upon his mouth. her adoration, her devotion -- i choose you. caribou-heart. the birth-scent in a snow lodge. fiercely he wanted these things with her, wanted to make every word of her professed love a pedestal built upon his own back. he would be this man; he must be this man, and his hard paw wrapped with tender slowness around that of her own. she chose him. she chose the roads down which ice raven might send them. iglux̂ of crying wind. his voice did not shake, but carried stark passion in the shadowed place of each word. we are two becoming one. i will carry you down the path if you cannot run. i will protect the children of your body. our breath will be as one breath. our hearts will be as one heart. i will look for you in the silence and in the noise. i will hear you always. i choose you as you choose me, iglux̂ lanzadoii of the saatsine. some huskiness had crept unbidden into his throat. cen knew he had not felt in such a manner since a glacier valley and many years removed from his life. he would do no disservice to dwell, only rejoice that his crying-wind, his sun clan obsidian, that she had restored to him some portion of a spirit he had long since lost. cen moved to kiss iglux̂ then, feeling the gentle pull of the leather at their wrists, and by this he knew ice raven was pleased.]

---

my heart is moved by u both <3

meleys and the scent of good caribou leather. cen felt the touch of it around his wrist.
kigun. the widow. Illanak.
the single eye shut, for the chieftain found himself fraught and unbalanced by a striking surge which he knew to be love -- love, unbound from moorings, from hesitation. love, unformed, for cen did not have the words to speak his heart. those eloquences, he saw, lay in the eyes of crying-wind.
his sister spoke in a way he had not heard before, not only as darkfang and sister to cen, but as blood-matriarch to the sun clan, and a breath of gratitude swelled his chest.
iglux̂ wound her voice around his ears, and the lanzadoii man was surprised to taste the faintest salt upon his mouth. her adoration, her devotion -- i choose you.
caribou-heart. the birth-scent in a snow lodge. fiercely he wanted these things with her, wanted to make every word of her professed love a pedestal built upon his own back. he would be this man; he must be this man, and his hard paw wrapped with tender slowness around that of her own.
she chose him. she chose the roads down which ice raven might send them.
iglux̂ of crying wind. his voice did not shake, but carried stark passion in the shadowed place of each word. we are two becoming one. i will carry you down the path if you cannot run. i will protect the children of your body. our breath will be as one breath. our hearts will be as one heart. i will look for you in the silence and in the noise. i will hear you always. i choose you as you choose me, iglux̂ lanzadoii of the saatsine.
some huskiness had crept unbidden into his throat. cen knew he had not felt in such a manner since a glacier valley and many years removed from his life. he would do no disservice to dwell, only rejoice that his crying-wind, his sun clan obsidian, that she had restored to him some portion of a spirit he had long since lost.
cen moved to kiss iglux̂ then, feeling the gentle pull of the leather at their wrists, and by this he knew ice raven was pleased.