Memories Like Broken Glass, Threaten To Tear Me Apart

The shadow speaks and the woman’s eyebrows shoot up at the thick accent that hangs on every syllable. He speaks of less ice and Wight cracks an amused smirk, asking, “Is there such a place? All I have seen since I got here is snow and… more snow. Oh yeah and… even more snow.” She huffs out a chuckle, shuffling cold paws as she tries to lighten the mood, despite how cold she feels. He gives his name and she smiles, then he steps into the path of the wind and she instinctively takes a step toward his shadowy form in an attempt to keep most of the wind away from her. Viðarr offers to get her out of the snow and Wight’s brow furrows in worry. Duel-toned eyes glance back at the water and she hesitates to leave… until another, stronger gust of wind kicks up.

Puffing out a shallow breath, smaller frame shaking slightly, Wight turns her head back to look at Viðarr and gives him a wordless nod, unable to trust her voice. She has waited here for months, waiting for anymore of her family to washup like she had. It has been a long time but the nebula cloaked wolf had refused to give up hope, only straying further south to catch prey and find a warm place to sleep when she needed it. It feels wrong to leave this place; a piece of Wight feels like she abandoning her family. Yet… it has been several months since she washed up and there has been no signs of any other survivors. As she prepares to go with Viðarr, Wight sends up a silent prayer that her family’s souls find rest.

Another gust of the bitter wind and Wight shakes out some of the snow that clings to her starry coat. Sad eyes look to the shadow wolf as she asks, “Where are we going?” Her chest tightens as the duo start to walk away from the only place Wight has known for the past eight months.


"Wight Baade"